


Where the Music Matters

by devilduckieee



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-23 04:07:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 54,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/921800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilduckieee/pseuds/devilduckieee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Santana's a DJ, remixer and aspiring record producer who's never made an album of her own. With a new locale, new job, and a certain club owner that won't leave her alone; she's never been so inspired.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Much love and infinite thanks to [abnab](http://abnab.tumblr.com/) and [lemasquerade](http://lemasquerade.tumblr.com/) for their beta ninja skills. Any remaining faults are mine.
> 
> Reuploading 'cause I'm an idiot who accidentally deleted the whole thing. Sorry for any trouble this brings to you readers.

Being a radio DJ for a public access channel wasn't exactly what Santana was expecting to do when she first moved to Seattle, but then again, she never thought she'd move to the Northwest.

Growing up in her small town, middle of nowhere place of dullsville USA, her dreams were full of New York or Los Angeles and landing the _perfect_ record contract with a big label. She'd left immediately after high school and got an internship with DefJam, and New York was big and beautiful and full of lights and a cornucopia of ladies for her to sample and get inspiration from. New York was also expensive, cold and lonely. Once the glossy veneer wore off of her cushy internship for The Man in the Big Apple wore off, she realized that it wasn't what she had expected. Not that she didn't have realistic expectations about the Industry -- please, she knew there would be hard work and assholes to put up with along the way -- but she didn't expect it to be like working at a law office. Which is what her job at DefJam basically felt like. She chalked her unhappiness up to New York not fitting right, like the designer jacket she once bought that was too large, but it was on sale and she reasoned that she could stand to gain a few pounds to fit into it.

She wore that jacket all of twice before donating it to Goodwill.

Santana figured that she had chosen the wrong coast to try and achieve her dream; she really did look amazing in a bikini after all and the New York humidity did the nastiest things to her hair. She kept working at DefJam, slowly graduating out of the unpaid internship and into a paid lackey, and looking at the in-house job listings that Universal had available. The economy had been shitty and it had taken much longer than she had liked for that position in Los Angeles to open up (and for her to convince the execs that it should be hers). She had packed everything up, not that it was much, and moved across the country to an apartment in Burbank.

Santana spent that first year in a warmth infused state of bliss where she constantly hummed _California Girls_ like it was her theme song.

Then reality started setting in, again. As much as she loved the beach (who wouldn't, really), it didn't take long for her to start missing the rain and snow she'd grown up with. Living in a place that was sunny ninety nine percent of the year just did not go well with her natural temperament, and those sparse days when it did rain were like the apocalypse had come and everyone had gone crazy. Sometimes Santana's amazed that she's not actually in prison for killing someone. Those were little things though, things that she could put up with if her job was making them worth putting up with, but it wasn't. She had even tried switching from Universal to Warner Brothers, but it was the same exact thing. All about the numbers, the money, how do we get the cheapest shiny object and make the most profit from it.

It's not like she was a disgruntled artist who thought The Man sucked because they wouldn't pay her any attention. Quite the opposite, actually. Santana had built up a bit of a following in New York, and somehow, word about her gigs got out around Los Angeles as well. People were paying to see her on the regular and her own companies had offered her contracts. Shitty contracts where she wouldn't own the rights to any of her lyrics, music, likeness or voice even. It was their standard contract. She knew that she shouldn't think that she was better than all the artists that had come before her who had signed up with these big labels. It's just that she knew that she was closer to Joplin than Spears in the talent arena and she didn't have any of the liability issues of either. She deserved better and she knew that such contracts, though rare, did exist.

Contrary to what most people who know her would believe (well, except for her actual friends), Santana has a lot of patience. She was smart and talented and knew that she deserved more than what was being offered to her and, unlike most artists, she wasn't starving, nor struggling. Santana knew she could wait for her perfect deal to come along, she just didn't think that Los Angeles would be the right place for it to happen anymore.

Music can be done anywhere these days, and yeah, touring the world would be nice, but that wasn't really what Santana's dreams were ever made of. Her dreams were about people listening to her music and getting it, getting her and - - if she was lucky -- helping them through their life. It sounded cheesy as shit and she'd never say that aloud, not even to her best friend, Quinn. (If she did, Quinn would've instantly checked Santana into a mental institution, because they just did _not_ do the touchy-feely stuff.) Santana had made her mind up to try and figure out where she wanted to live out of the other little musical hubs throughout the States. Nashville was a definite no go and, though she'd heard amazing things about Austin's scenes, it was still in Texas and that was too close to all she grew up with to ever want to go back.

It was actually Quinn who suggested Seattle. Well, not suggested, it was a completely unrelated Skype conversation, actually. They had been catching up on their semi-monthly scheduled video-Skype session that neither of them is allowed to reschedule or miss, when Santana fully realized that her best friend was on the same coast as her again.

"I'm really excited to teach those fuckers some proper English." Quinn had grinned into her webcam.

"By speaking French?" Santana smirked and Quinn rolled her eyes.

"You'd love Seattle, you know, there's this used bookstore that I love -- that plays the best jazz -- and lets you sit wherever you'd like all day and drink coffee from the shop next door without bothering you once."

It wasn't the best argument that Quinn could've given, but at the time the thought of sitting anywhere with Quinn surrounded by the smell of books, coffee and rain, sounded like the most perfect thing ever.

And that was that.

Quinn had hooked her up with the radio station owned by the University of Washington. Turns out knowing a Doctorate of English is actually good for something other than tedious conversations over how she's read better fiction on the internet than some of the shit (Quinn's favorite word, for some absurd reason) that is getting published by the big houses. Santana never gave Quinn much grief over the topic, she understood it completely with her own experiences, it's just that she could only hear about the horrors of _Fifty Shades of Grey_ so many times.

Turns out that her popularity in New York and Los Angeles was enough for word of her to spread to the people at the station, they were actually shocked that she wanted to work there instead of just asking to perform. It was a bit of a surreal interview to say the least. They wanted to give Santana her own show at a prime time slot, but she'd never even thought about making her own YouTube channel, let alone being a DJ, and was worried that her words would get lost in translation between the music and so she asked if she could start out with something smaller.

Holly, the station manager who both looked like she'd just stepped off a runway and directly from a Beyonce concert simultaneously, eyed Santana quietly for a moment, nodded, and gave her a co-host. Holly gave Santana a week to track this person down and brainstorm show ideas, before they had to go on the air. They needed to get at least three weeks worth of good ideas and music together, and run them by her for initial approval, but after that it was all theirs.

They decided to meet at a bar that sponsors the station (discount on drinks), Santana had arrived early, still getting used to traveling in the city. She sat at a table on the floor, near the middle of the venue, wanting to get a feel for the place (she had booked a gig there that was coming up, not that she told anyone that when she got there). It was a bar like any other, the decor encouraged relaxation and drinking. The floor was sticky in that well used, many drinks spilled, kind of way that all good bars have. She liked it, especially since they had an excellent selection of beers on tap. She was enjoying a freshly pulled frosty brew when a rainbow in the shape of a human plopped herself down into a chair at her table. Santana pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows, she was fairly sure that this addition to her table was a dancer. Santana had gotten used to the way they tended to handle themselves: lack of personal boundaries, gliding everywhere, complete inability to sit still and the most unique fashion sense that tends to go unrivaled. Looking at the light skinned, beautiful, blonde haired, blue eyed woman, dressed in a magenta tank top, bright cyan sweatshirt that hung off her shoulder and wearing a purple velvet bowler hat, Santana was absolutely positive that the woman was a dancer. What she didn't know was why the cat-eyed beauty had sat down at her table.

She squinted momentarily, shrugged her shoulders, and took a sip of her beer. Santana wasn't going to complain about anyone that looked like that sitting with her. Weirder things had happened in Los Angeles and New York. At least this chick looked like she showered regularly.

"You're Snixxy, aren't you?" The blonde's voice was light and wry, and carried with its tone a confidence that she was correct in her assumption. Santana turned her gaze back to her companion and raised an eyebrow. It caused her companion's smile to grow. "Thought so. You're totally casing the joint aren't you? For your gig." Santana fought off a smirk, it still gave her a bit of a thrill when she was recognized, especially in new cities. "How's your beer?"

"Not overly hoppy. I like the hint of chocolate." Santana took another sip.

"Finally, she talks!" Tinkling laughter filled Santana's ears, "I guess you're not one who needs their ego stroked, good to know for future monogamous conversations in the future."

"I'm not altogether sure that is what you meant to say, but I like the way it sounds anyway." Santana couldn't stop herself from flirting if she tried.

"What, me stroking your ego?" The blonde winked. Santana laughed, shrugged and fought from saying the first thing that popped into her mind.

"You make it a habit of sitting at stranger's tables?"

"Oh, but you're no stranger, honey." Blue eyes twinkled.

"B! Hey, I didn't know you were going to be here!" A voice cut into their solitude. The blonde's head snapped towards the voice and her face broke out into a huge smile. Santana followed the direction the woman was looking to find a well dressed man with slightly ruffled hair and glasses roll up to their table. B hopped into his lap and hugged him tightly.

"I practically live here, you're the one who is a surprise, Abrams."

The name clicked in Santana's head and she realized that this must be who she was here to meet.

"Ah, well, I'm here to meet my new co-host." He tilted his head towards Santana. B's eyes widened in shock at this information.

"No way!" She looked at Santana for confirmation. Santana gave a soft smile and nodded. "This is awesome and horrible!"

Santana was really confused and was sure that it showed on her face. Abrams, his first name was Artie according to the information Holly gave her, took pity on Santana's confusion, "Brittany's happy because she's happy for us and loves that she'll be getting to listen to us regularly. She hates that, with the way she listens to things, we'll probably be the only thing she listens to that doesn't come from this club."

"I'm going to demand a podcast from Holly." B nods, looking at Abrams. She turns to look at Santana, "Maybe I should demand that it's a video podcast."

Santana coughs to hide her blush and then does her best to ignore B by finishing off the rest of her beer. This really wasn't the way she wanted to meet her new co-host and she can practically feel Abrams eyes dissecting everything about her.

"Hey, Britt, hows about you do your job and get the lady another beer instead of welcoming her so hard she never returns?"

The woman pouts, her eyes twinkling in amusement, as she gets off of Abrams lap to go about doing just that, Santana assumes.

"Brittany's completely harmless, by the way." Abrams smiles at her,

"I doubt that." Santana says wryly. She knows she's right when she can visibly see Abrams hold back a laugh. "I've got to say, Abrams, I'm impressed. Takes a really secure person to be perfectly chill when his girlfriend flirts with someone else so blatantly."

"Oh, I'm totally secure, about a lot of things." Artie grins and Santana isn't sure what was so funny about her compliment, "You shouldn't go about assuming things though, especially when Brittany is involved."

"Noted." Santana was fairly sure that he wasn't just talking about the assumption she'd just made about their relationship. She wanted to ask more, but knew this wasn't the time or place. She realized something, straightened up in her seat and offered out her hand, "Shit, where are my professional manners, talking like I already know you. Santana Lopez, but my fans call me Snixxy."

"Artie Abrams," He took Santana's hand and gave a reassuring shake. "My fans call me FiddyFiddy, my friends call me various things, you'll probably end up calling me Wheels."

"I see my reputation precedes me." Santana laughs. "So, what are you into, Wheels?" Santana winks. Abrams rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

"Anything that isn't crap, especially over produced crap." He shrugs.

"Yeah, real helpful." Santana snorts.

"Don't let him fool you, he loves dancing with me to Ke$ha." Brittany reappears with beers and a basket of sweet potato fries for Artie and Santana. She winks at Santana as she pulls over a chair to join them.

"I think that has less to do with Ke$ha and more to his dancing companion." Santana smirks at Brittany before looking to Artie for agreement.

"Mostly true, but have you heard her voice when the producers haven't overly saturated the fuck out of her songs?" He swigs his beer in an excited manner.

"Ke$ha is his not-so-guilty pleasure." Brittany stage whispers to Santana, "he obviously hasn't heard that gig you did at the _Troubadour_ last year."

"You heard that?" Santana blushes. It's one thing for people to recognize her, something completely different when they know her work that well. The music she creates has always been deeply personal to her, like little facets of her soul get embedded into the songs she weaves. When people show an obvious connection to her music, it feels oddly intimate.

"Definitely, I've got all your mixes stored in my clouds." Brittany nods, giving a soft smile.

"Not all of them." Santana states.

"Give her time." Artie laughs, "B, don't you have a club to run instead of embarrassing us?"

"It runs itself." Brittany shrugs and settles herself more comfortably on her chair. "I'll be good, though. I just haven't seen you in ages, Abrams. Let me bask in your dual greatnesses."

They actually did manage to get to business at that point, Brittany being a great help when the DJs hit a creative snag. The free free-flowing beer and food were a definite plus. It turned out that Artie and Santana were quite compatible in the music department, both being quite eclectic in their tastes while being extremely picky. Santana's brutal honesty was easily smoothed over by Artie's sass. Brittany seemed to enjoy their dynamic, at least. It would definitely bring a different tone to the station, all of the current shows being more like Washington's weather: neutral and constant. By the end of their meeting, they had more than the three week requirement that Holly gave them filled, they would just need the go ahead and they would be set.

Santana was excited. She left the bar with a buzz that had nothing to do with the beer she'd been drinking and everything to do with the meeting of peers who felt the same way she did about music. People with genuine opinions, who weren't scared to state them. She felt inspired in a way she hadn't truly felt in years.

Santana rushed to the home she shared with Quinn. (Quinn had bought the house with the thought of luring Santana to Washington in mind, it was more than large enough for both of their personalities, but small enough to feel lived in with two people in it.) She barely registered that Quinn wasn't there, just enough to tell that the woman's Mini-Cooper wasn't in their garage. Santana had parked her hybrid Q5 hastily, making sure to give Quinn enough room, and ran inside where she barely managed to catch the hook with her bag's strap that she threw in the general direction of the wall. She didn't care if it made it or not, having taken her laptop out of it before throwing it. Santana could deal with it later, when she wasn't feeling like she was wasting precious creativity by being away from her studio. Santana practically ran to the third floor of their craftsman home. A band had apparently abused the home in a past life, but they did take the time to soundproof the attic. She had first questioned their decision in doing so, instead of the larger and more practical basement, but once she saw the view from that third story window, she'd known that their decision was a perfect one.

She barely took in the sunset over the bay that greeted her through that window, too distracted in her haste to hook her laptop up to her toys (as she so lovingly called her equipment). She actually had names for all of her various devices, but in moments of inspiration like these, she rarely remembered to use them. Santana opened her laptop and started up a program that would record her voice. She started talking, switching between the various languages she knew without being conscious of it, just trying to get all of her thoughts out while she set everything else up. It's not like Santana usually kept her equipment in disarray, but she was still in the process of unpacking and hadn't been inspired enough to need to unpack everything. She'd been lazily pulling out devices and setting them up as the need presented itself, mostly just messing around just so that she kept up her familiarity. Similar to writers who write for a certain amount of time each day, the work doesn't have to mean anything, but the practice hones the muscles.

Santana kept talking as she carefully set up everything just how she liked it, sometimes she'd hum a little melody or sing some lyrics, knowing that she could come back and listen to it all again in case she forgot anything. Her fans didn't know that it was actually her voice on a lot of the mixes she produced. Part of it was due to an inexplicable shyness she had at the thought of having to sing live in front of people, another part was that she loved contributing to the mystery that surrounded her persona. It's not like Santana had purposely built up a mystery around herself; she didn't wear a mask or hide behind hoods or a curtain like that Wizard of Fraud guy (Santana rolled her eyes every time she heard his moniker. Please, his name was Ben Israel and his jewfro was larger than his talent, but whatever floats people's boats. She wasn't going to out him for bad taste.) She just didn't do a lot of promoting for her shows. Santana would book gigs and the places would put her on their schedules and calendars, and that was about as far as Santana would go in the promotion department. She started that, in the beginning, to save herself some money, figuring that putting up fliers wouldn't distinguish her from any other performer out there. Santana would just book the dates at local clubs, knowing that people would inevitably show up for some relief after their long work days, and if she was half as decent as she thought she was, then word would spread. She was far more than decent, and word of her skills spread faster than a fire started by a match on a dry grassy mountainside in the middle of summer. So, she'd book a gig and not worry about it, and people would always find out and word would spread; the internet was a crazy place when she thought about it.

Santana always did her best to not think about it.

She liked to pretend that her music was just between her and her computer. The way she built mixes was just as personal to her as someone writing down their innermost thoughts to a journal. At least that's how she thought of what she did. It kept her honest, anything less than true and the song would fail horribly. Which is why she liked to keep her shows dark, with the least amount of lighting legally possible. Strobe lights were annoying and gave her headaches, even when she wore her glasses, and laser lights and smoke were so cliche. Every show of hers was set up like a romantic and intimate affair. Santana liked the lighting dim and did her best to make it seem like the clubs were lit by candles. It certainly set her apart even more than her musical skills did. From what she could tell, she was the only one doing such a thing. People had called it risky, not having anything to distract people from her music. Some critics tried to claim that she was being avant-garde post-modern chic or some shit that she immediately forwarded to Quinn to translate. Santana just didn't want to acknowledge that she was playing her most intimate of thoughts and desires to a room full of people. She knew that she was performing -- getting paid to do what she loved was part of it and she loved the high that came with a crowd who was completely into her flow -- but she liked to pretend that she was just at home, playing for herself. It made the jitters go away better than picturing everyone naked ever did.

Hours later, Quinn opened the door to a wall of sound. Santana didn't notice until a plate of food, chicken madeira with green beans and mashed potatoes, appeared between her face and the screen. She followed the arm with the plate to find Quinn looking at her amusedly. Santana gave an impish shrug, paused her programs and took her plate from Quinn.

"Good meeting?" Quinn remarked dryly.

"S'alright." Santana shrugged as she sat on the blood red velvet love seat that was against a wall. She grinned at Quinn's laughter before taking a bite of food. "Thank goodness you're on a cooking kick, Q."

"Yes, I know how you like your free food."

"Seriously, Q. French chef's would kill to get their food to taste as good as this."

"Are you on drugs?" Quinn eyed Santana seriously and sat down on the other end of the love seat.

"High on the music." Santana grinned through a mouthful of mashed potatoes. "You wanna hear some rough cuts while I get my nosh on?"

"I might as well have a soundtrack while I watch you eat."

Santana looked down at her half eaten plate. "Shit, I missed dinner." Quinn nodded. "Sorry, Quinn. I got all caught up in here."

"It's okay." Quinn placed a comforting hand on Santana's shoulder, "It's actually nice to see you so worked up about your music again. For a while there it seemed like you were going through the motions."

Santana shrugged and placed her plate on the floor before getting up and crossing over to her workstation. She hit a couple buttons and turned a knob; music filled up the room. Santana set the tracks to play in succession and stop when they were finished, which was par for the course when she was listening to her roughs. Quinn knew the deal, Santana had been sending compositions to Quinn for ages now, with specific criteria as to how Santana wanted her to listen. This was the first time that Santana had been in the same room as Quinn when she was getting her first listen. It was oddly unnerving for Santana. She tried concentrating on listening while eating her food to prevent herself from trying to read Quinn, but she was too nervous to register the sounds entering her ears. Santana knew she had no reason to be nervous, Quinn was her most honest and trusted critic, they were living together now and best friends for practically all their lives. Yet, Santana was nervous.

The first time Santana sent Quinn one of her mixes, it had been something that Santana had drunkenly put together the night before it was due for her music theory final. The professor gave her an A for "taking chances". Quinn had ripped it apart and called Santana's effort pathetic. Santana specifically remembers Quinn telling her that a drunken monkey would have more finesse than what she was hearing. Santana had loved it. Not only had Quinn called out Santana on her drunken and sloppily rushed mix, but she told her (in specifics) exactly what was wrong. Quinn did it so succinctly that Santana was able to translate it perfectly into one of her most favorite tracks. From that point on she forced Quinn to listen to everything that Santana didn't instantly dismiss as a 'hot sloppy mess that not even a hobo would want anywhere near them'. Quinn would tell Santana her first thoughts during their Skype conversations (before they'd get down to drunken snarkfests about each other's lack of lives) and then later email Santana a bullet point list, by the second, of what worked and what didn't work. If Santana ever gets to put out an album, Quinn will have the first paragraph of thank yous dedicated to her.

Santana had finished her food by the time the music finished playing, and had only calmed a little bit. She bit her lip as she anxiously awaited Quinn's thoughts.

"That was..." Quinn's voice trailed off and Santana looked at her for the first time in a while to see her staring off into the distance.

"Shitty?" Santana tried. Usually Quinn was more eloquent and not shy about hiding her words.

"I need some wine." Quinn stated then looked Santana in the eyes, "or a cigarette." Santana was confused and was sure it showed in her expression towards Quinn. It was as if Quinn were looking right through her and it made her think that something was horribly wrong. Santana swallowed and tried to calm down her heartbeat. "Definitely some wine, a nice Cabernet Sauvignon, and a cigarette." Quinn nodded, picked up Santana's empty plate and stood up. She headed towards the door of the room and almost left before Santana could find her voice through her fear.

"Q, wait!" Santana called out and walked over to Quinn to stop her from leaving the room, "does it really suck that bad? Should I just chuck it all out?"

"Santana, whatever you do, do not throw that out. Do not throw it anywhere. Lay it down on a bed of rose petals and treat it more preciously than those damn headphones of yours." Quinn said with a serious expression, "If you fuck that mix up, I will find that one ex-girlfriend of yours and I will make her voice your ringtone."

"Shit Q." Santana chuckled, feeling relieved.

"You know what, burn me that mix right now so that I can go spend some quality time with it." Quinn nodded. Santana picked up on the subtle reddening of Quinn's neck.

"Oh." Santana smirked, "Oh, I get it now."

"Shut up, Santana."

"No, no. I wouldn't want to get in the way of you dancin' with yourself, Quinn." Santana walked over to start burning the mix with a grin. "You go get your wine and cigs, I'll burn this and start a nice warm bath for you and yourself."

"I hate you."

"Yeah, but you'll be thanking me later, apparently." Santana winked at a scowling Quinn. "Or would you prefer to stay in here, where you can really feel the bass?"

"You know what?" Quinn straightened up her posture, and headed back into the room, "Yeah, lemme just use your couch. Close the door when you leave."

"Fuck no, I can't leave. I've got more lady jams to be making." Santana shook her head, already back into her creative head space, new ideas floating in and not leaving her alone. Not distracting her completely, though. "Feel free to use my couch though, you don't mind if I watch? Might help the process."

"I hate you, I really do." Quinn stomped back towards the doorway.

"And I wouldn't be able to live without you, Quinn." Santana called out before Quinn could fully leave. "Seriously, Q. Thank you, I'll really run you that bath, no innuendos added."

"No, that's fine. I don't need to think of you thinking of me taking a bath while thinking of you." Quinn shuddered and stuck out her tongue before closing the door behind her.


	2. Chapter 2

Santana was surrounded by books. She was sitting on the floor in the corner of one of the back aisles with her back resting against a bookcase and her knees up and propping open the book she was reading.

"You know, that's a horrible position for your spine." A voice broke Santana's concentration. Upon looking up from her book she found a woman around her age, with long brunette hair, brown eyes behind tortoiseshell framed glasses, and a unique sense of style. There was a green lanyard around her neck, informing that not only did the woman work in the store but that her name was Rachel.

"Oh, sorry, am I not supposed to sit in the aisles?" Santana asked before looking over at someone else who was sitting in a similar position down one of the aisles Santana had a view of.

"No, you're perfectly fine." Rachel's brow furrowed and looked down at the coffee cup that was sitting on the floor next to Santana, "Do be careful though, there's a lot of rare first editions here and it is quite easy for mistakes to happen. I know just the other week one of our old time regulars, Debbie, was sitting in the chair next to Shakespeare -- do you know that chair?" Rachel paused for Santana's answer, which was a look that clearly said 'what the fuck are you talking about' that Rachel apparently decided to ignore before continuing. "It's really comfortable and excellent for your spine, which you're really not doing yourself a service by sitting in that hunched over position, you know? Debbie was sitting in that chair like she usually does, sipping on her soy chai latte. I know, because we've had many a conversation about the best places in Seattle to get Chai. It has such a distinct scent. Debbie went to put her cup back on the little coffee table we have next to that comfortable chair, it's an antique, when she missed the table and had placed it on the edge and the chai took a nosedive --"

"Rachel?" Santana's voice had risen enough to break through the employee's monologue. She'd been trying to break through since Rachel first mentioned chai latte and was a bit exasperated.

"Yes?" Rachel tilted her head, giving Santana her complete attention.

"Am I in your way?" Santana enunciated slowly, mostly to curtail the rage issues she'd been working on for the majority of her life.

"What? No, why?" Rachel's eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

"So you're interrupting my quiet reading time to tell me things I don't care about because there's some magical neon sign that only you can see that is telling you to disturb me?"

"Well, I -- you don't have to be rude about it!" Rachel practically stomped her foot, which made Santana have to fight off a laugh from escaping. She was annoyed at this employee, but couldn't deny how adorable Rachel's frustrated state was.

"You're the one that interrupted my reading to tell me about chai tea and spines." Santana took a sip from the coffee she'd gotten from the cafe on the corner. Quinn had been right, the coffee was amazing and this book store had been awesome. Until she had been interrupted in the middle of quite the interesting description of--

"Well, excuse me for trying to help out a customer." Rachel huffed.

"By trying to drive them out of your store?" Santana grinned. The more annoyed Rachel got, the more her own frustrations seemed to slip away. She straightened out her legs, now that she wasn't completely absorbed in her book, she realized that her back was a bit sore. Santana closed her book and set it and her coffee on the shelf above her before reaching out a hand to Rachel, "Help me up, since you're so helpful." Rachel rolled her eyes, but complied anyway. Santana grabbed her book and her coffee, once standing, and turned to look down at the much shorter Rachel. She raised an eyebrow at this, but figured she'd already pushed as far as she could without getting banned from the store for life. "Where's this damn chair you were so gung ho about?"

"You're ridiculous, you know that?" Rachel pushed some of her hair behind her ear out of frustration and then led the way.

"Oh, I'm the ridiculous one?" Santana laughed as she followed Rachel down the stacks of books. The bookstore was beautiful. Sturdy wooden bookshelves lined the rows, safely holding the sometimes well worn books on it's shelves. The lighting was just right, not too dark, not too light. Enough light to read, but also dark enough to give a sense of privacy. Santana hadn't realized how large the store actually was, it looked small from the street, but the further down the rows Rachel led, the larger the store seemed to become. "You're not trying to get me lost so that I can't find my way out and you can kill me, right?"

"Please, if I wanted to kill you there are at least five more practical ways in this row alone, miss." Rachel snorted. Santana wasn't sure if she should be offended or impressed, she kept following Rachel anyway.

"It's Santana. Miss makes me feel like I should be teaching kindergarten or something."

"Of course." Rachel nodded. "I suppose, with you giving me your name and all, that you are planning on visiting my store regularly? Are you new to the area? I can recommend some amazing--"

"Yo, Rach, lemme stop you before you go on some long-winded rant again." Santana cut in with amusement and shook her head. "You spend way too much time with books, don't you? Just can't help but let all those words out at every opportunity."

"Yes, well I--" Rachel started before getting cut off by Santana again.

"We need to get you out more, girl." Santana smirked and bumped her shoulder into Rachel's. Santana wasn't sure what it was, but there was something about Rachel that made Santana want to get to know her. She needed more friends anyway, it was a new town and knowing someone at a bookstore would be handy for both her and Quinn.

"I do go out!" Rachel rolled her eyes and raised her chin in the air, "I'll have you know that I am well known on the Seattle theatre scene, thank you very much. You're practically talking to a celebrity right now."

"You don't say." Santana grinned slyly.

"What?" Rachel squinted at Santana. "Why do you look like a fox that has hidden a chicken from a farmer?"

"Uhm." Santana blinked, then realized that this wasn't anywhere near the strangest conversation she'd ever had. "Nothing." Santana checked the time on her phone and cursed. "Shit, I actually have to go. You'll have to show me this mystical chair some other time."

"Oh." Rachel seemed to physically deflate.

"But, hey, I've got this gig, you should totally come. There’s enough time for you to work it into your schedule." Santana handed her book to Rachel, she didn't have enough time to find the registers and find her way out, and checked her pockets. She pulled a four by five card out of one of them and handed it to Rachel.

"DJ Snixxy?" Rachel was totally judging Santana, who would've bristled if she wasn't so already amused by the woman.

"Whatever." Santana rolled her eyes. "Just come, I'll put you on the guest list, k? Rachel Bookstore." Santana winked and turned around to find her way out of the labyrinth of a bookstore.

"I have a last name, you know!" Rachel pointed out.

"Yeah, I don't really care right now!" Santana called back as she practically jogged down the aisles.

\--+-- 

Santana smiled over her mic and their joined desks at Artie who was staring at her with an equally as wide smile. It would take them getting into work a bit earlier than most of the DJs do to arrange their workstation, but they had come up with the perfect setup to accommodate their show idea. Holly had agreed to the pitch practically before they finished their first sentence. All it took was them dropping the word 'battle' and Holly was screaming out a yes at them and jumping over her desk to hug them. It was something that never would've happened at any of Santana's previous employments. Her chest felt full and she vibrated with excitement. Holly had given them full permission to rearrange the studio however they felt fit to accommodate their needs.

They had decided that an old school setup of facing one another would be best. The room had originally been set up for a single host with a chair next to them in case they brought someone in for an interview. Rearranging things for one show was a little bit ridiculous, especially for the overnight slot, but Artie and Santana were adamant about it. Not only would it add some fun to their dynamic, but it would also help them to get into the proper mindset for their show. Being across from one another would give them the opportunity to read each other's cues, see what was coming so they could plan ahead and also allowed them to stick their tongues out at one another when the opportunity arose. The setup also would come in handy for attempting to make a video podcast of their show.

Apparently Brittany wasn't kidding about coercing Holly into the idea. Artie informed Santana, while they were setting up the studio, that Holly was Brittany's Aunt and that they shared a house. "They refuse to call it living together, since they're never actually home at the same time."

Truth was, Santana had thought the video-stream/podcast idea was actually kind of cutting edge. She was excited about getting to take her music into another direction. The vodcast would introduce her and Artie's work to a whole new audience. They would have the opportunity to expand musical horizons while honing their skills. Santana couldn't wait to start. She was also completely frightened and would need to go shopping with Quinn as soon as possible, especially with Mr. GQ across the way from her. Not that she was a slob, but for the past couple of years she'd been putting her money towards buying new equipment (one big buy at a time). The threads on her body were fashionable, but well on their way to vintage without any of the hipster cred of having bought them at a thrift-store.

There was a fine line that she wanted to walk now with her fashion. When she was coming up in the ranks, she had wanted to give the impression of blending in while still standing out. It wasn't hard in those offices with bland paint and cubicles. When it came to her career, she'd done something similar. It was a bit more difficult to do, women in the industry were still rare, and were certainly not popular unless they were one of the arm candies or video girls. Not that Santana had ever had any problem showing a little skin. She knew she was stacked, the tank-tops she wore to perform in were chosen specifically to remind people of the fact. It's just that she wanted people to take her seriously while they weren't staring at her cleavage as well. In the more recent years, with people starting to follow her music around and get to her gigs without having ever seen her, that she started caring less about how she appeared. She'd gotten a little less fashion forward and a lot more comfortable. Still, graphic novel tee-shirts were actually quite popular in certain crowds, especially the primary audience of the music she produced.

Santana wanted to change now, she wanted a new look for a new city and a new journey for her career. She wanted to somehow meld the ways of her past with her current, to somehow do that geeky sexy look, a real one not some intro to porn sexy librarian thing. (That was reserved for special occasions in the privacy of a bedroom and shall not be put into video form what so ever if Santana had her say about things.) Santana wanted to make a statement, a powerful statement, but she wasn't about to give up her sneakers for heels. No way was she going through all that pain again, especially in the constant dampness that permeated the streets. Which reminded her...

"Is it always this sunny and Seattle has the rest of the world fooled or did I steal the shine from L.A.?" Santana had been watching the time count down until they would need to speak. They were supposed to announce what artist they'd just been playing and station info, but that's what their website was for. It's not like Santana had ever remembered the name of an artist she heard while driving around listening to the radio, she would always have to check the station's website to figure it out. When they got into the deeper mixing, there wouldn't be enough room for all the songs being used at once anyway. At least not in the way Santana liked to work.

"While I'm sure Los Angeles is mourning your loss, Snixxy." Artie looked amused by Santana's non-sequitor. "I doubt you control the weather."

"Whatever, I could totally be Storm." Santana crossed her arms and smirked.

"Yes, and I'm sure the majority of your fans would be down for you dressing like her too." Artie nodded with a smile on his face.

"Only happening if I lose a bet." Santana scoffed, "and I don't lose bets." She started queueing up the next sampling of tracks she intended to weave together.

"We'll have to see about that, wont we?" Artie grinned. Santana could see the show ideas popping up in his mind like they were hers and returned his grin.

"This video addition could be fun for us." Santana purred, "I'm sure your fans would love to see you as the Hulk."

"Ms. Snixxy, are you saying you'd like to see me in denim cutoffs?" Artie raised his eyebrows and held up five fingers indicating how long they had before needing to get back to the music.

"I was thinking of the green body paint." Santana nodded in response to Artie and hit some switches. She paused her finger over one of them just long enough to say, "No one wants to see you in cutoffs, Fiddy."

Santana could see Artie laughing more than hear him as she went into her mixing. They had decided that their show format would be a combination of battling, mixing and a more traditional cued up format to give them both time to get managerial things done. Traditionally there was supposed to be a tape delay, in case things went wrong or a curse word slipped out, but being that they were the graveyard shift they weren't constrained to the same FCC rules and regulations. They could play whatever they wanted and they could curse if they so chose, and in knowing this they decided to try to do their show as live as possible. Besides, it'd be pretty boring for their viewers if they were just sitting on their asses playing cards while songs were playing. It'd take some getting used to, but Santana was sure that with time they'd get everything running smoothly while being entertaining at the same time.

A sponge football bounced off of Santana's head. She looked up from her deck, having lost herself in the music for a moment there, to find Artie staring at her with laughter in his eyes, holding up a whiteboard. He'd written a message on it: _When you'd like to play with the rest of the kids, let me know._ Santana rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him and switched tracks, winding it down for whatever Artie had in mind. She could see him writing something else on the whiteboard and looked up when he held it above his head again, _Britt texted in, I'll save you the embarrassment, but she's requested a mashup challenge._ Santana arched an eyebrow and nodded.

"Seems like we've got our first caller...texter, fan?" Santana started as soon as her song finished. She looked to Artie for help.

"Part lover, part fan, and all sponsor: our first request is from Britts over at our favorite bar: Nemo's." Artie chimed in with the perfect radio announcer sounding voice.

"I just wanna go hooooome." Santana groaned out at the ease in which Artie was able to do that. She was used to all the electronics side of things, and was actually quite known for the way she could turn a phrase, but this announcing thing was going to take some work for her.

"Yes, that actually is the typical response people have when meeting Britt." Artie winked at Santana who shook her head and rolled her eyes.

"For good reason, Fiddy." Santana winked at the camera that was live streaming their show. She wasn't about to be seen as a spaz for all of the internet to see forever. "What did the lovely vixen over at Nemo's want?"

"Besides your phone number?" Artie grinned. Santana flipped him off, which caused him to laugh out. "She requested a mashup challenge."

"Could you explain that to our listeners," Santana turned to the camera once again and waved her hand towards it, "and viewers, who might not know what that means?" To tell the truth, Santana wasn't even sure what it meant.

"Sure." Artie nodded meaningfully at Santana. "Britt has given us a couple of songs and it is our job to mash them together into one song that, reputation willing, sounds amazing."

"Like a tag team?" Santana looked down at her computer's screen to see the chat window she had open with Artie, telling her the tracks Brittany had requested. He also informed her that he hadn't been joking about Brittany asking for her number. She typed a quick, 'bite me' in response to that before actually looking at the songs."Purple People Eater...is she serious?" Santana asked with disbelief oozing from every word.

"Hey, it wouldn't be a challenge worthy of Nemo's if it were easy." Artie shrugged.

"Speaking of..." Santana turned to the camera and spoke, "aren't you supposed to be working?"

"We need Skype up in this joint!" Artie called out in a mocking laugh. "C'mon, Snixxy, you scurred?"

"Nah, we got this...or we will." Santana scrunched her brows in concentration.

\--+--

The bar was packed in that way that informed her that it actually was successful, that people genuinely liked coming there. Santana was there because Quinn and her boyfriend, Mike, were big fans of whatever band was supposed to be playing tonight. She wasn't very excited about having to go out on her night off, but at least it was to a bar she liked, with good food and drink and the possibility of seeing her new...something else. Even if Santana had tried to get Brittany out of her mind, her nightly calls or texts into the show would've made it impossible. Her requests were ludicrous and hilarious and perfect and actually gave Santana and Artie a much needed challenge. They were even considering giving her a special moment on their show, complete with theme song that she'd get to pick the songs for. Santana had been hoping to see her tonight, and asking what was up with the random ass requests, but by the looks of the packed club, it'd be unlikely to see her.

Santana was wondering how Brittany even had time to check in with the show as regularly as she did.

The band was about to go on, their name was something to do with ties, but Santana really hadn't been paying any attention. Sometimes Quinn starts talking and Santana just zones out. Especially when Quinn was trying to get her to do something. Santana had long ago come to terms with the fact that Quinn will get her way with certain things and that it's best to just give in at the start. Saves energy and time...and sleep. Like the time, when Quinn was taking classes at Yale and Santana had gone up to visit her on the weekend and Quinn thought it'd be a freeing experience to go streaking. Naked. In the middle of winter. Across the quad. Santana was quite adamant about not doing that. Back then she had hopes of being famous one day and did not want such adventures popping up due to overzealous fans or anything. They fought about it late into the night and, once they agreed to go to bed, Quinn had decided to wake Santana up every half hour on the dot until Santana agreed just to shut her up. Luckily, even on a college campus, 3:30 in the morning makes the population sparse. They only ran by one person, a night security guard who looked very confused at the two girls running by her.

They had been sick for two weeks after that.

Santana had no clue what band they were there to see, nor what sort of music they were about to perform, and one of the things she'd already learned from living in Seattle was that you really couldn't judge listening preferences by what people wore. She looked down at their drinks and saw that they were almost empty and knew the band was about to get on stage, and stood up.

"Refills?" She asked.

"Awesome." Mike smiled a crooked smile and then took his wallet out of his shirt pocket and handed it to her. Santana was already in love with the guy. Quinn had a habit of making the worst decisions ever when it came to the romantic side of her life. Mike was the complete opposite of that, so far. A gentleman without imposing anything, merely offering because it was the respectful thing to do. She smiled and took his wallet, she had paid for the last round and wouldn't have minded paying for this round either, but dude was trying to take care of her homegirl so she'd help him out. Santana winked at Mike, then wiggled her eyebrows at Quinn, before turning around and weaving her way through the people to the bar.

"Well hola sweetness, what'll you like?" A large ebony princess -- she was wearing a tiara, with an adam's apple -- smiled at her from behind the bar. The more Santana found out about Nemo's, the more she loved it.

"I'll take a pint of the stout on tap, a rum and coke and a gin martini; extra dirty, extra olives, stirred." Santana rolled her eyes, "She's, like, totally picky about this shit. Sorry."

The woman at the bar threw back her head and let out a boisterous laugh, "No problem, sexy. I'll get right on it."

Santana smiled and decided to take in the bar. It appeared that, unlike most bars that organized their shelves by type of alcohol and quality, these shelves were stocked by color scheme. The wall of the bar was a literal rainbow of alcohol. Her smile grew larger and she shook her head. It was perfect. The bartenders were just as diverse as the alcohol, it seemed. There was the beautiful woman she'd just met, who was making Quinn's martini next to a well muscled shirtless guy with a mohawk and then there was the mod-vampire who was talking to a blonde... well, shit. The unexpected view momentarily took her breath away. Santana went into tunnel focus on Brittany who looked troubled at whatever the mod-vampire was telling her. Still, she looked beautiful in her black leather pants and baggy vintage _Whitesnake_ tee shirt that hung off of her left shoulder. Brittany looked like she'd been transported back into time, her hair done to match, and she looked completely magnificent to Santana.

"Stare any harder, sweetness, and she'll shoot daggers at you." Santana was brought out of her trance by her bartender's voice practically in her ear. She'd leaned across the bar to get Santana's attention.

"Is she okay?" Santana couldn't help herself from asking.

"Brittany's always okay, she just has a thing for taking in strays and dealing with their problems as if they were her own." She paused and looked at Santana critically, "I would know, I'm one of them."

"When she's taking care of all of you, who's taking care of her?"

"You pushin' your luck, girl."

"Sorry, she's just..." Santana shook her head. "Yeah, never mind, none of my business. Send her whatever her favorite drink is, on me, okay?"

"Sure thing, sweetness."

"Thanks..." Santana pulled some cash out of her wallet and added it to the money from Mikes’ and held it out, but wouldn’t let go when the bartender tried to take it.

"It's Unique," She shook her head as she took the cash and added, after looking at how much she'd been given, "and you can come back and ask for me any time, I'll take care of you."

"As long as you just mean bartending, I'm good. Otherwise, I think I'm already taken." Santana couldn't help but look at Brittany one last time before turning around and heading back to her table.

She got half way there before a female body collided with hers, causing Santana to spill Mike's rum and Coke all over the tiny body, "Hey, watch it dwarf, you totally are going to pay for that drink too, dammit!”

"I'm sorry, I got pushed and, I didn't mean to and --" The petite woman turned around and looked up at Santana.

"Bookstore?" Santana questioned with a bewildered look.

"My last name isn't bookstore." Rachel stomped her foot and Santana couldn't help but smirk. Then she remembered how she spilled Mike's drink all over the woman and sobered up. "Hey, let me go put these drinks down at my table and I'll help you get cleaned."

"Oh, you don't have to."

"I know I don't." Santana tilted her head and started walking, "Where are your friends, Books?"

"Oh, I, well." Rachel stuttered. Santana couldn't help but be slightly baffled by such a simple question shutting up such a verbose woman. "They're not really fans of this band and I am so..."

"Rachel?" Quinn's shocked voice broke through their quasi conversation. Santana turned her attention to her best friend and saw an equally shocked expression on her face.

"Quinn."

"You know each other?" Santana placed her drinks down and shook her head. Seattle is a huge city, it shouldn't be so easy to keep running into people who know each other. At least Santana assumed that. She rarely ran into people she knew in Los Angeles.

"Gold stars." Quinn leaned over and mumbled into Santana's ear. Santana bit her lip and snorted.

"Oh gods, this isn't awkward at all. I'll just," Santana grabbed a still silent Rachel's arm and turned away from the table, "let's get you cleaned up, Books." Santana attempted to contain her laughter but failed.

Santana vaguely registered that the band had just taken the stage, the volume level increased and everyone surged towards the stage. It cleared the way for where they were headed, but Rachel had turned her head and slowed down their movement.

"Books, I get that you like this band or whatever and if you really want to stand and watch them in your drenched clothes, feel free. I just think you'll enjoy it a lot more if we get you cleaned off a bit."

Rachel looked at her and nodded. She then turned around and briskly continued their journey to the bathroom. When she entered, Santana couldn't help but roll her eyes slightly. Of course they would have awesome bathrooms here, and clean. Santana would like to find something wrong with the place, it'd make her feel better.

When she took her eyes off of the walls that looked like they'd been ripped from a well drawn graphic novel, she instantly regretted her wish for there to be something wrong with the bar. There was something very wrong with running right into red rimmed and wet blue eyes. Brittany stood up straighter and wiped her tears away.

"Britt, are you--" Santana tried, but was cut off by Brittany.

"Oh no, what happened here? Did you confuse gravity and think you were supposed to drink from the glass while it's upside down?" It was an earnest question and Santana couldn't help but find it adorable. Brittany had grabbed some paper towels and started dabbing at Rachel's shirt. "I did that once with a Shirley Temple, disaster!"

"Books decided to run into me as I was carrying drinks back to the table." Santana rolled her eyes, but moved over to Rachel and moved some of the hair out of her face and put it behind her ear.

"Books?" Brittany quickly looked up at Santana and then quickly looked back to Rachel, "Were your parents librarians?"

"Actually, my name is Rachel." She shot a glare at Santana who merely grinned and wiggled her eyebrows, "and you are absolutely fascinating."

"No, I'm Brittany, but people confuse me for that Fascinating girl all the time. I hope I don't have an identical twin out there that my family doesn't know about, that'd be sad." Brittany frowned and rubbed at Rachel's shirt a bit harder. She gave a frustrated sigh. "This isn't going to come out right now."

"Oh, it's okay Brittany, at least I'm not sticky any more. I'll just go home right after _The Bowties_ are finished. Thank you for your help, it was very kind of you." Rachel turned to go, but was prevented from doing so by Brittany's grip on her wrist.

"Wait, here..." Brittany reached for the bottom of her own tee shirt and proceeded to take it off. Santana wanted to look away from Brittany -- now bra-clad -- out of respect, but the shock of the moment prevented her from doing so. There was so much flesh and abs and breasts and belly button and Santana couldn't even force herself to blink until Brittany's amused voice spoke again, "It'll look like a dress on you, but at least you'll get to enjoy the show and not feel like a Picasso."

"That's very kind of you, thank you, but I wouldn't want you to..." Rachel made a vague gesture with her hand towards Brittany's chest.

"Oh, don't worry about that, the regulars are used to me in a bra -- Topless Tuesdays are a huge hit around here." Brittany leaned over and mock whispered, "I think everyone comes just to see our hottie bodyguard, Beiste in her bikini."

"B, we need you out here!" Santana looked towards the door where the mod-vampire's head was poking its way into the bathroom. She heard Brittany let out a quiet sigh.

"Be right there Tina." Brittany turned back to Rachel, "You ladies have a good time. Don't worry about my shirt, Rachel, you can return it the next time the band is here." Brittany turned her gaze to Santana and Santana had the sudden urge to give her a hug, but refrained. "It was really nice to see you again, in person, Santana."

"Yes...agreed...ditto?" Santana mentally face palmed herself, she was usually quite smooth. Brittany was completely messing with her game.

"Until next time." Brittany grinned at Santana and squeezed her arm as she passed to leave the bathroom. It wasn't until the door closed that Santana remembered how they'd found Brittany crying. She wondered what was wrong, concerned for her new friend, but took some solace in the fact that Brittany had left with a smile.

"You are so completely smitten with her, aren't you." Rachel's voice drew Santana's attention that she was not alone in the bathroom. She looked at Rachel, who had changed into Brittany's shirt at some point, and felt mildly jealous at the fact that some stranger was getting to wear Brittany's clothes. She swallowed the feeling down and focused on how selflessly Brittany gave her shirt away to help someone she didn't even know. Santana felt her heart skip a beat.

"Keep your schnoz out of my bidness, shorty." Santana shook her head and left the bathroom. When she got back to the table, Quinn didn't ask where she'd been. Quinn just nodded hello, Mike did the same, and they turned their attention back to the stage. She couldn't make out the band on the stage, she had worn her contacts tonight and they were for seeing things up close. The band looked like different colored blobs in the shape of humans. That didn't matter too much though, not when they sounded this good. Santana liked the choices they made with their music, and the male vocals were definitely talented in a refreshing and comforting sort of way. She'd have to remember to ask Quinn what their name was at some point.


	3. Chapter 3

Quinn had actually left her to fend for herself in the middle of a thrift store. First off, the bitch took her to a fucking thrift store when she said she needed new clothes. New being the operative word, she wanted some custom tailored threads that clung to her curves perfectly. Not some mangy old clothes that smelled like mothballs and piss. Santana had scowled the entire way to the store. They had just stepped into the place with Quinn reassuring Santana that she could find whatever she was looking for in the store, she just had to look. Santana was going to bite out some cunning and scathing reply about inspirational quotes, but was cut off by Quinn's ringtone. Turns out Quinn's teaching assistant was in an accident or something and Quinn needed to something something hospital. Santana wasn't really paying attention, especially since she knew she was about to be left in a sea of other people's clothes.

Santana sighed loudly and resigned herself to her fate of combing through all the rows of clothes in the store. She couldn't even find a skateboard and skate her way home because she'd gotten lost on the way to the store. If Santana hadn't seen how pale Quinn had gotten at the phone-call, she'd think it was payback for the other night's teasing.

She just didn't get it. Santana didn't like shopping in general, but thrift shopping seemed to increase the difficulty tenfold. At least with regular stores she could go to a certain section and a certain size range and then figure things out from there. Thrift stores had everything everywhere and, if you were lucky, they might even be labeled correctly. Santana knew that her anti-thrift store stance was a bit hypocritical, what with her addiction to used record stores, but she loved music and could care less about clothes. She headed over to the walls of the store, ignoring the clothes for the moment after realizing that this store might have some super rare albums she could use for mixes. As she walked along the walls she remembered the other reason why she didn't like stores like these: she always felt like she was going through someone's house. There were all these well worn items from various moments in time and it reminded her of that weird feeling she got whenever she was in a strangers house. She'd gone to a lot of house parties in her time and it was always a weird experience for Santana to see the things that people decided to surround themselves with. Things that she'd never choose for herself.

She didn't really find anything of value along the walls, just slightly disturbing items that made Santana question the sanity of the people in the world around her. She sighed and started sifting through the racks of clothes. Santana didn't fully know what she was looking for, but she knew that most of the things she was sifting through weren't it. She did find this tee shirt with a cat howling at the moon graphic on it that she was seriously thinking of getting for Quinn as a thank you for ditching her.

 

"It's not really your style." A familiar voice broke through Santana's inner ranting at her best friend. She looked up from the shirt and found blue eyes and a smirk.

"Are you stalking me?" Santana raised an eyebrow, but couldn't help a smile from appearing on her face from seeing Brittany unexpectedly. The woman had been on her mind ever since their first meeting, and the regular requests to the show didn't help matters either. The more absurd and obscure Brittany's requests were, the more intrigued Santana became.

 

"Honey, I don't need to stalk you." Brittany winked and took a step closer and played with the tee shirt Santana had been looking at, "I never took you as the ironic hipster type."

"It was going to be a gift." Santana rolled her eyes and turned back to the shirt, she no longer felt like poking at Quinn for some reason. "My friend kinda abandoned me here."

"Abandoned, really?" Brittany took the shirt off the rack and held it up to her own chest. It went surprisingly well with the black and white motorcross pants she was currently wearing. Santana mentally scoffed at herself, of course Brittany could get away with that sort of style.

"Her T.A. was in an accident or something and their parents live across the country so..." Santana shrugged. She thought the shirt would look cute on Brittany, "I didn't take you for an ironic hipster, either."

"That's because there's nothing ironic about me wearing this shirt." Brittany grinned. 

"No, I guess not."

"You looked pretty lost, you know. Like that time Lord Tubbington relapsed and fell into a large vat of those puffy cheese chips that look like the things you stuff packages with when you ship them so the things inside don't break." Brittany put the shirt back on the rack. "You don't want to actually use them when sending people things though, they're not that good at protecting anything. They just crush and then when you open the package you've got a broken unicorn mug and clothes covered in neon orange cheese like substance."

"That should be a band name." Santana didn't really know how else to respond. The story itself was interesting and she could see the logic in it, but she wasn't fully sure what it had to do with a Lord Tubbington, whoever that was and why there would be a vat... the story confused Santana and she just didn't know how to respond.

"An ironic hipster band that would be an instant hit here." Brittany nodded and then started sifting through the clothes rack.

"A delightful mix of shoe gazer, pop with a minimalistic edge." Santana reached out her hand and grabbed Brittany's wrist to inspect the blazer on the rack that Brittany was sifting by. It was a black blazer, definitely not new, but well taken care of by its previous owner. It had diagonal pockets with zipper accents and a black and white plaid silk lining on the inside. Santana was captivated and didn't realize that she was still holding on to Brittany's wrist until she let go to look for the jacket's tag to get a size. "Oh, uh, sorry, I just wanted to look at this jacket."

"You've got excellent taste." Brittany nodded and pointed at the thin red line that wrapped around the upper arm of the jacket, there was a TK breaking the line where the outermost part of the arm would be. "Looks like you found a TK original."

"TK original?" Santana traced the red stitching with her finger.

"No one really knows who they are." Brittany shrugged and slipped the jacket off the rack. She held it up for Santana to try on, "A fashion designer needing release or a receptionist with a hobby. There's someone out there who designs items of clothing and hides them around the city for people to find."

"Seattle is weird." Santana eyed the jacket warily causing Brittany to shake it like she were a matador trying to lure a bull. Santana fought back a smile and shook her head as she gave in and slid her arms into the jacket. It fit her perfectly.

"Seattle is definitely weird." Brittany nodded even though Santana wasn't looking at her, "It was made for you."

Santana couldn't tell if Brittany was talking about the City or the jacket. It didn't matter, she agreed with the statement.

"Yeah," she said as she turned to look Brittany in the eye. "I think it's a keeper." The sides of Brittany's eyes crinkled as her face exploded with mirth and she let out a little bounce. Santana was sure, if she hadn't been before, that there was no hope for her ever being able to resist the spell Brittany had seemingly cast on her. She coughed, needing to gain some sort of composure, she wasn't usually this much of a spaz around the ladies. In fact, Quinn had often accused her of being a Lady Lothario. It was disconcerting the way this woman so easily disabled all her defenses and got her all sorts of turned around. It was also amazing, she'd never been this inspired with her music before. She straightened the lapels of her jacket, "Is there a mirror around here?"

"Yup." Brittany smiled and grabbed Santana's hand, pulling her in the direction of the mirror. "Wouldn't want you to get lost in this big and scary store."

"It's interesting, you know." Santana walked up to the mirror and took in how well the blazer suited her body.

"The jacket?" Brittany took a step towards Santana so they could make eye contact through the mirror.

"How you presume to know me." Santana pointedly raised an eyebrow and then turned her body in an attempt to view how the jacket formed over her sides and back. It fit perfectly. She wondered if she found more from this TK, if they'd suit her just as well. She made a mental note to reach out to her listeners for tips.

"But I do know you." Brittany's voice was confident and when Santana looked up from the mirror it was to find that Brittany was nodding.

"Do you?" Santana turned around to face Brittany. "We've only barely just met, and not even officially."

"That just means that you don't know me, yet." Brittany sighed. "I do know you though, the real you, the one that lives through your music. I know your soul, Santana. I might not know if you like bagels with your coffee or something sweet, but I do know your heart and how it's just as perfect for mine like this jacket is for your body."

"My heart is your heart's jacket?"

Brittany ducked her head, looked up and at Santana and bit her lip before replying, "Yeah, it is. Mine will be yours too. Just you wait, you'll see."

"Britt, listen, I'm flattered." Santana pushed some hair out of her face, "But just because you're a fan of my work doesn't mean--"

"No. I do know you." Brittany interrupted, adorably stomping her foot. She straightened up and placed her hands on her hips before nodding, "Let me prove it to you."

"What, how?" Santana shook her head. It's not that she didn't want Brittany to be right, Santana already knew that she was already hooked, but if things went bad between them it could taint so many things in Santana's life. Brittany lived with her boss, for one thing, which is a giant hurdle in itself, but the fact that Brittany also owns a bar that is perfect for her gigs and is friends with her co-host. There were so many things already intertwined between them that Santana already felt like she had to tread carefully or everything she had come to love so quickly could crumble before her and leave her with nothing.

"You said your friend wasn't going to come back for you any time soon?" Brittany asked instead of answering.

"Uh, I actually have no idea, she just left." Santana scratched her head, remembering how she wanted to kill Quinn for abandoning her.

"Call her and tell her that you're taken care of." Brittany winked, "I'm going to give you a proper introduction to this city."

"Oh, you are now?" Santana tried to fight the grin that was trying to make its way onto her face. She really didn't mind the idea of being taken care of by Brittany, even with all the complications that could arise.

"Yup, I'll also help you get that exclusive TK wardrobe you've been wanting ever since you saw how hot you look in that jacket." Brittany grinned and Santana couldn't help herself from giving a grin of her own. She was going to ignore the warmth that had made her cheeks tingle at Brittany's words. It'd been a long time since a compliment had affected her in such a way. Maybe Brittany was right, maybe this blonde enigmatic woman before her actually did know the inner Santana. There was only one way of finding out.

"Yeah, okay." Santana shrugged, took out her phone and sent a text to Quinn before following Brittany to the registers to buy her jacket.

\--+--

"We'll start off easy." Brittany nodded down the street she parked on before getting out of her car. Santana looked to where Brittany had nodded and raised an eyebrow at her companion's choice.

"Pike's Market? Seriously, I thought you were going to take me on some grand adventure into nooks and crannies rarely known." Santana walked around Brittany's Outback, noticing the plethora of stickers on the back window, but especially the sticker advertising the radio station Santana worked for. She'd only been with it for a short amount of time, but it was a good feeling to see people supporting public radio. Even with knowing that Brittany was related to Holly, friends with Artie and her bar was a sponsor for the station, Santana never expected to see a sticker for it on her car. Santana didn't even have a sticker on her own car yet. She was probably over thinking things, feeling too sentimental for this life she had just stepped into. She was surrounded by potential everywhere she went and was constantly reminded of it.

"I never said that." Brittany shrugged at Santana, locked up her car and tied the rainbow colored lanyard that held her keys around a belt loop on her pants and tucked the keys into her back pocket. "I said that I'd give you a proper introduction."

"So I made an ass out of you and me?"

"Honey, you've got enough ass for the best of us." Brittany winked and grinned. She held out her hand and wiggled her fingers for Santana to take, "Come on, I won't bite. Nibble, maybe, but the market can get kinda crowded and we're on a mission and I don't want to lose you."

"Excuses." Santana rolled her eyes with a smile and took Brittany's hand. She purposely didn't think about how good of a fit their hands felt like or how soft Brittany's hands were. She also didn't think about the rush of adrenaline that shot through her as she took her companion's hand. "I've a feeling you couldn't lose me if you tried."

"I saw you first, I've got dibbs." Brittany tugged and started walking. "It's nice that you're finally catching on."

"I am not some prize to put on a shelf, Brittany." Santana knew that Brittany was joking, but she had made friends in the past who just wanted to be with her for the hook ups. She wasn't some A-list celebrity, but she was well known enough in certain circles to get some free swag or get into some exclusive parties. After a while, it was enough to make Santana a little bit paranoid about the people she met and why they were being nice to her.

"I know." Brittany squeezed Santana's hand and pulled her closer as they approached the entrance to the market. "Stay close, you'll have plenty of time to come and check out the different stalls and smells and all the shiny some other time, okay?" Santana stepped even closer to Brittany, who took it as agreement and started to weave her way through the crowded rows of the market. Santana followed as closely as she could, but some of the displays would catch her eyes and distract her. It was at a fruit stand, where there was a medium sized T-Rex toy with a string bean in its mouth sitting upon the rows of oranges, where Santana got distracted for a bit too long. She stepped a second too late to follow Brittany and ended up running into the shoulder of some stranger and losing her hold on Brittany's hand.

"Oh, I'm--"

"Well, hello." The shoulder Santana ran into was attached to a tall and skinny man in trendy glasses, wearing a smarmy grin that deserved to be on the streets of Los Angeles. Santana couldn't help the sneer of disgust that appeared on her face at his creepiness. She still felt the scratchy wool of his coat on her face. Someone bumped into her from behind, pushing her closer to him and she looked around at how tightly packed everyone seemed to be in this place and a slight sense of claustrophobia hit her. The man's grin got even creepier and he turned towards her.

Suddenly someone was wrapping their arms around her waist, but it was careful and calming to Santana. There was something about the way the hands slowly but confidently slid their way along her abdomen and pulled, causing Santana to take a step backwards, away from the creepy guy who was leering at her. Santana looked behind her to see who had made her feel safe in a moment of panic, only to find the blue eyes she'd been growing to know quite well. They looked worried and relieved at the same time and if Santana hadn't been feeling the exact same thing a mere second ago, she would've questioned how such a thing were possible.

"There you are, I thought I'd lost you, Honey." Brittany hugged Santana closer while bringing her gaze up to the man Santana had ran into. Santana was amazed by the transformation of Brittany's features. If she hadn't been there, experiencing it in the moment, she never would've thought that such a friendly and bubbly person could transform their face into a frightening weapon. Not only was there a warning and a threat in Brittany's expression towards the man, but there was a confidence being portrayed that implied that she could fully make due with those threats.

"Sorry, I got distracted by T-Rex over there." Santana wrapped her arms around Brittany's in thanks and nodded over to the oranges.

"See, he survived because he went vegetarian." Brittany grinned and Santana couldn't hold back her laughter. She threw her head back and leaned into Brittany's body, feeling a gentle squeeze from Brittany's arms as she did so. Santana couldn't ignore how much she enjoyed the warmth of Brittany's embrace, but this wasn't the time.

Santana slowly withdrew from Brittany's embrace and turned to look at her, recognizing the disappointment written on Brittany's features. Santana pretended not to notice it and took hold, once again, of Brittany's hand. She looked at Brittany with a soft smile.

"This time I promise to only look at you." Santana squeezed their hands, and pretended that she didn't notice the flutter of Brittany's eyelashes, the extra long blink nor Brittany swallowing something down. For Brittany's credit, if Santana hadn't been so focused on her companion she probably wouldn't have noticed, because in the next moment Brittany was all smiles.

"I know it's your first time and I should take my time, but we're really not here for this." Brittany winked, "If it'll help you focus, I guarantee that I've got the best looking ass in here. Next to yours, of course." Brittany turned around, ready to lead the way again, and wiggled her butt a bit. "Eyes down soldier and we'll get through here just fine."

Santana obeyed and when she looked up after them having not moved one step, found Brittany smirking at her, Santana ducked her head down bashfully and shook her head. She was losing all of her bad ass Lothario cred to a woman wearing a CareBear sweatshirt.

"Whatever, okay." Santana rolled her eyes, chuckled and whipped their entwined hands, "Mush."

Brittany erupted into boisterous laughter as she put them back on course, headed to wherever they were originally going. The creepy guy was all but forgotten as Santana focused quite intently on the task she'd been given. It was a difficult job, but Santana wouldn't mind handling it at all.

She had gotten lulled into the sway of their bodies weaving throughout the other bodies in the market, and she had been quite focused on not letting her eyes leave Brittany (she'd stopped staring at her companion's ass a while ago and, instead, had gotten distracted by studying the back of Brittany's head. The way her blonde strands had subtle waves and came to her mid back. That two side strands had been pulled back and tied together in the back with a green band, so they'd stay out of her face. Santana had also noticed the multiple piercings in Brittany's ears, one up near the top, two more tiny rings right next to each other about a quarter of the way down from that top one. Brittany had brushed some of her hair back, tucking it behind an ear and Santana had been able to see that Brittany had two other holes, in the lobe of her ear, but they weren't filled. Santana had momentarily thought about what they'd feel like on her tongue, before she caught herself. However, she was unable to prevent herself from running into a stopped Brittany.

"Oops, sorry." She mumbled, purposely not bringing her eyes up to meet Brittany's, lest she give her previous thoughts away.

"It's fine, I know how distracting my ass can be." There was laughter on Brittany's voice and Santana didn't know which would be better to confess to, the truth or Brittany's teasing. She went with remaining silent and taking in their surroundings.

They were next to a fish stall. Big piles of ice covered in fish of varying sizes and cuts, Santana's eyes slightly widened taking in the enormity of it all. That was a lot of fish. It wasn't the most pleasant of smells, either. By the time she took her eyes off the piles of ice and fish and to her companion, it was to find Brittany looking at her like she was an adorable little something _again_ and she was standing next to a guy around their age. He was just slightly shorter than Brittany, a curl of brunette hair was hanging down his forehead, having escaped the bright orange skullcap he was wearing. He was wearing orange fisherman overalls and the sleeves of his green and blue flannel shirt were rolled up past his elbows, showing off his well muscled forearms. He reminded Santana of Brittany, in the way that they both looked like earnest and honest puppies with playful glints in their eyes. His smile was almost as beautiful as Brittany's and if Santana wasn't so completely wrapped up in Brittany already like she was...

"She's cute Britt, not at all your usual type." He grinned and tilted his head to the side and playfully swayed side to side as he looked at Brittany. No wonder Santana found him so attractive, she had fool-proof gaydar, it just showed itself in interesting ways. 

"So, you're in the habit of picking girls up in thrift shops and bringing them to smell the fishes?" Santana raised an eyebrow, playfully judging Brittany. It's not that Santana would judge anyone on their ways with wooing the ladies, but she had hoped that this was something a bit more than that.

"No, he just holds the keys." Brittany sighed exasperatedly.

"The keys to what?" Santana looked around. She didn't really see any doors, or chests for that matter, that would need to be unlocked.

"To her heart." The guy crooned. Santana made a mental note to never let Quinn meet Brittany. 

"Blaine Anderson, if you don't just hand over the keys like a good best friend should, I will make you pay for your own drinks at the bar." Brittany pouted and then Santana pouted as Brittany had let go of her hand (she hadn't even been aware that they were still holding hands until that point) to cross her arms over her chest.

"Okay, okay. I promise." Blaine's expression instantly changed and he held up his hands as if trying to block Brittany's ire. He moved a hand to his pocket and pulled out a carabiner with keys on it, "What do you need the keys for?"

"I'm giving Santana the TK tour." Brittany straightened her posture and dug her hands into her pockets, something that Santana noted as interesting. What was more interesting was Blaine's perfectly groomed and triangular eyebrows shooting up on his brow in shock. 

"Really?" Blaine sounded cautious, and if Santana hadn't been paying attention before, she most definitely was now. She thought they were just getting some random items of clothing strewn throughout the city. What was so special about this TK tour?

"Yes." Brittany looked down at her shoes, but Santana noticed how the tips of her ears had turned red and bit her lip to keep herself from smiling at how cute her companion was. Brittany coughed, met Santana's gaze with a look that almost knocked her backwards, before looking back to Blaine. "Maybe I should've properly introduced you. Where are my manners?" Brittany scratched her neck nervously, "Santana, this is Blaine, my best friend. He's a world renowned fish thrower and lead singer of a really popular band here in town, The Bowties."

"I'd offer my hand for a proper greeting, but I've been playing with fish all morning." He tilted his head again and gave an apologetic smile. Santana nodded in greeting and gave a confused smile.

"Blainers," Brittany inhaled a deep breath of air, bit her lip, looked at Blaine and then exhaled, "This is Snixxy."

"Oh shit." Blaine's eyes widened. He apparently choked on air and his body slightly bowed as if he'd been punched in the gut. Santana became even more confused. She was almost becoming used to the state she'd been in whenever Brittany was present. Blaine straightened up, realizing his lack of subtlety at learning who Santana was a bit too late. "I mean -- It's nice to meet you, again. Erm." He looked down at the carabiner in his hands, "Oh. Right, Britt, I don't have that key on this. You wanna follow me to my duffel?"

"Yeah." Brittany nodded and turned to Santana, "I'll be right back, just enjoy the sites and don't try to pick up any more strange men."

"I did not--" Santana squinted at Brittany's grin and then rolled her eyes, "I'll stay here and get to know the fishes."

They were really beautiful fish, actually, and their size was quite impressive. Blaine must get quite a workout having to throw those around every day. She looked up to see if she could see where they'd gone off to. It turned out it wasn't very far, just on the other side of the rack. Santana couldn't help her curiosity and moved along the edge of the fish container to possibly overhear their conversation. They were leaning over a desk and Blaine was digging through a navy blue duffel.

"I'm really sorry about that, Britt." Blaine bumped his shoulder into Brittany's. "She's definitely worth the first ever TK tour though."

"Yeah, whatever." Brittany played with the leash of her keys. "I know you couldn't have known. It's frustrating, being around her, Blainers."

Santana moved her head back slightly and scrunched her face. She wasn't aware that she was being so frustrating towards Brittany. Santana had thought they were getting along quite well, actually. Santana leaned a little bit closer to the conversation, pretending to be interested in purchasing a fish.

"I know, sweetie." Blaine leaned his head onto Brittany's shoulder as he continued to search through the bag, "but you need to give her time. Not all of us have perfect intuition like you."

"She's perfect." Brittany sighed and Santana swore she could hear the pout even if their backs were toward her.

"You've had the advantage of getting to know her for all this time, of hearing her soul singing to yours." Blaine straightened up and hung the key off of his finger for Brittany to take. "You need to be that amazingly patient Britt that we all love and give her the time she needs to hear yours singing back."

Santana realized that she probably shouldn't be listening to this conversation. She had thought that she could learn more about whatever this TK thing is, but this was almost overwhelming to hear. She turned away from the fish and the conversation and stepped towards the opening that led to the stall. Somehow, while they were lost in the maze of people in the market, a light drizzle had started. The sky was still its perpetual grey, but the streets had that matted buff that comes between dry and saturated. She loved that in between time, where the world around her looked brand new and the smell of fresh rain. Santana had once learned that it had a name: petrichor. The definition was literally 'the scent of rain on dry earth' and she figured that it wouldn't be a scent she experienced much in Washington, with it rarely going long without rain. She hoped that the new damp atmosphere wouldn't hinder the plans Brittany had for her. Even with these new things that Santana had just learned, the intensity of Brittany's feelings for her, Santana oddly didn't feel like running away like she normally would've. She was freaked out a little bit, but there was something telling Santana to stay and give Brittany a chance. 

Santana had always thought that fresh rain, and the petrichor that came with it, was a good omen.

"Hey." Santana heard from her right, she turned her head to find that Brittany had come up beside her, "Sorry for making you wait."

"No worries." Santana turned back to the view before them, the streets were now glossy with rain. "I hope the rain isn't going to ruin any of your plans."

"Oh, this isn't rain, silly." Brittany's tinkling laughter filled Santana's ears and it made her feel like she felt in the middle of an intense mixing session. It was just a giggle; Santana's blood shouldn't be rushing with adrenaline like that, and yet it was. 

"It's not?" Santana remarked dryly, trying to control herself.

"No, you'll know rain soon enough." Brittany grinned, took Santana's hand and gently tugged for Santana to follow, which she did. They headed towards the back of the market, towards the water. Santana barely remembered to turn around and wave goodbye to Brittany's friend before they disappeared from view.

"What do you call this, then?" They stepped out onto the street behind the market and were greeted with a kiss of water.

"It's misting very hard." Brittany nodded. Santana didn't even try to contain her laugh.

They fell into a comfortable silence as they walked. Santana noticed that Brittany seemed fidgety, but couldn't think of anything to say. Instead she looked at their surroundings. It was quite amazing how different the cities she's lived in were from each other. Not just aesthetically, which was certainly the most obvious difference. Manhattan was tall and lean and slick, like the businessmen it was known for housing. Los Angeles was stretched and bright and dry, much like the actresses it was known for. Seattle was somehow a mix of both places, but with its own flavor mixed in. Old brick buildings were interwoven with slick skyscrapers and gave off a bewildering sense of time. There was a general vagueness about Seattle that seemed to be the reason why it was unique: it was every city while being its own. Santana was still making sense of it, but she knew she liked whatever it was that caused this city to speak to her like it was.

"It's timeless." Santana mumbled out.

"What?" Brittany turned her head towards Santana.

"This city, it seems timeless." Santana looked to Brittany and gestured with her left hand, simultaneously realizing that she was still holding Brittany's hand with her other, their fingers now interlocked. She'd dwell on that later. "As in it is in its own bubble where things are progressing, but somehow staying the same."

"Oh, yeah. It made me feel a bit wonky when I first moved here too," Brittany nodded. "But then I figured that must be what the inside of the T.A.R.D.I.S. would be like. It's easier to deal with if I can pretend I'm a time lord."

"A what now?" Santana squinted.

"Never mind." Brittany bit her lip and looked down briefly, Santana felt like she had disappointed her companion somehow, but wasn't sure why. The moment had passed and the window closed to ask what was wrong. Santana looked behind her and saw that they had walked quite a bit.

"Should I be worried about my new jacket?" She looked down at her new jacket, at the tiny bubbles of water meeting each other on the cloth.

"Oh, are you getting cold?" Brittany stopped walking and looked at her, concerned. "It's not that long a walk, we're almost there. I guess I should've thought of this and now you're raining. It's raining, I mean, and now you're going to wash away and I just didn't even think--"

"Britt, stop." Santana squeezed their hands and pulled Brittany closer to make sure that she was paying attention. "I don't care about the rain, though I'm sure my hair is frizzed to hell right now. I care about this really awesome jacket that my friend helped me find."

"You really don't have to worry about the jacket, it was made for Seattle." Brittany shrugged, "All of the things they design are made to look good while being practical, its kinda how their personalities mesh."

"If you know them, can't you just go to them for clothes?" Santana motioned with their hands for them to continue on their trek. Standing still in the rain, even in clothes that could handle it, didn't seem conducive to anything. 

"Where would be the fun in that?" Brittany grinned, then leaned towards Santana and whispered in her ear, "Your hair is beautiful, by the way, frizz and all."

"Whatever." Santana snorted and rolled her eyes. 

"So, how are you enjoying your resident gig with Artie?" Brittany bumped their shoulders together.

"Shouldn't you be, like, giving me a tour of the city we're walking through?" Santana raised her eyebrow and nodded towards their surroundings.

"You answer my question first and then I'll answer yours." Brittany shrugged with a coy smile.

"Why don't I believe you?" Brittany remained silent and only shrugged again in response, "Fine, it's pretty cool, actually. That Holly of yours has some great matchmaking skills, 'cause Artie compliments what I do, perfectly."

"I enjoy the way he keeps you in check." 

"Keeps me in check?" Santana leaned away from Brittany, "You make me sound like some wild thing that needs constant supervision."

"You are wild, and if you're hiring, I'll totally supervise you constantly." Brittany grinned.

"God, you're cheesy." Santana shook her head and laughed, "Do any of your lines ever work?"

"I wouldn't know." Brittany shrugged and smiled shyly. Santana noticed how the tips of Brittany's ears had changed from their pale peach to a ripe raspberry in color. Santana couldn't help but think it was cute, how easily Brittany blushed, especially with how forward she'd been with her interest in Santana. "If I'm being honest, I've never really had to work to gain someone's interest before." Brittany sent a brief glance towards Santana before looking down at their hands, "I've never wanted anyone's attention before." Brittany squeezed their hands.

"Britt, I--"

"I know." Brittany sighed and used her free hand to hide her face, "I know I'm coming on all sorts of strong, like I'm some guy who uses AXE. I'm normally this bubbly girl who's too busy running a successful bar to even notice people in that way." Brittany turned her head and looked Santana in the eye, "All I know is that I can't help myself when I'm around you."

"I don't --" Santana stuttered and looked down at her feet. She was glad that she had left the house in her well worn brown leather boots. Not only were they warm and waterproof, but they were her most comfortable shoes. When she was in Los Angeles, she actually went hiking in the hills with these boots instead of her sneakers. Hiking is a term used lightly. It means something completely different in Washington. Everything was so different than what she had once known. She certainly wasn't used to people like Brittany.

"I'm not telling you all that to get something from you, Santana." Brittany tugged on their hands, pulling them to a stop. Santana felt her squeeze their hands again and she looked up to meet Brittany's wide open gaze. "I'm telling you because I'm not going to lie to you or pretend that I feel differently than I do. It's more than enough that you came along with me today, willingly, after how forward I had already been." Brittany paused and looked down. She brought her empty hand to their joined hands, sandwiching Santana's between hers. "I don't need any answers right now, I get that you need to get to know how perfect I am for you." Brittany winked, before sobering up again, "I just ask that you don't--"

"I wouldn't be holding your hand if that were the case, Brittany." Santana cut her companion off, she didn't need to hear Brittany finish her thought. She didn't want Brittany to even think about there not being a possibility for them. Santana wasn't sure what was going on, she still needed to settle into things here and hopping right into a relationship wasn't the best idea, but she didn't want their potential to be cut off.

"Okay." Brittany blinked.

"Okay." Santana let a soft smile grace her lips.

"Okay." Brittany grinned and raised up and down twice on the balls of her feet, it was a long time before she took her eyes off of Santana's. When she finally did, she turned around and made a swooping motion with her arm at what had been behind her this entire time. Santana hadn't noticed the giant white Ferris Wheel.

"You brought me to a Ferris Wheel?" Santana's brows scrunched.

"It's the Seattle Great Wheel, and its brand new, and it's not really what we're here for. We're here for what's in it." Brittany explained as she led them to the front of the line.

"Hey B!" The ticket attendant, a tall man with long shaggy blonde hair and the largest lips Santana's ever seen, smiled at their approach.

"Evans," Brittany nodded her head and wiggled her eyebrows. "Number thirteen, if you please."

"Really?" The man zeroed his gaze in on Santana at this, like he was trying to see something. Santana didn't know what he was looking for, but where she was open to Blaine's questioning gaze there was something about this Evans that made Santana react differently. She straightened up her posture, raised her chin just enough to momentarily look down her nose at him. When her head lowered, she kept his gaze, pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow. Walls fully up, Santana remained silent, waiting for the man to finish looking for whatever it was he was questioning.

"Sam, it's the next one." Brittany broke their staring contest. Santana noticed that the tips of her ears were tinted red again. Sam turned to Brittany, then looked at the line, then looked at the wheel and shrugged. "I'll let your band have the VIP room free the next time you play."

"Okay." Sam sighed. He brought the compartment down and let them in, ignoring the protest of the people who had been in the front of the line.

"Thanks." Brittany said just before the glass door closed and he nodded in response. 

Santana took in the compartment, it was a glass enclosure with grey interior. Benches on the two longest sides for people to sit on as they took in the view. She tried to notice where a garment might be hiding, but couldn't even spot seams on the benches, let alone a lock that would need a key. Santana turned to look at Brittany and found that she was being stared at.

"Blaine and Sam are very protective of me."

"Okay." Santana wasn't sure what she should be saying or doing.

"I get hurt easily and they know it."

"Okay." Santana blinked and licked her lips, she suddenly felt nervous and confused.

"They're like my over protective brothers." Brittany kept staring at Santana as if Santana should be catching on to something she was clearly not catching on to.

"Okay?" There was a quiver to her voice, she was suddenly feeling trapped and the only escape was to plummet into the cold hard bay below them.

"Santana," Brittany rolled her eyes and laughed. "I'm trying to tell you that Sam isn't interested in me in that way. He prefers curly haired brunettes."

"Okay." Santana had been on a roll with her answers and it had just come out, but then Brittany's sentence sunk in. "Wait, what? Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you're completely adorable when you're claiming your territory." Brittany's eyes twinkled as she brought her hand up and lightly traced Santana's chin before bringing her fingers up to trace Santana's eyebrow.

"I wasn't--" Santana wasn't. She had just felt threatened somehow. She-- fuck. She let out a long exhale and sat down on the bench that faced the bay. Brittany sat next to her and leaned their shoulders together.

"Did you know that dolphins are just gay sharks?"

Santana looked over at Brittany with a wry expression. Brittany smiled and shrugged, then leaned back against the glass exterior. Santana looked out at the vista before them. There was a break in the clouds and the sun had just started it's descent below the equator. Purples, oranges, pinks and blues tinted everything before them, the bay, the land on the other side, the ferry boats slowly transporting people across from one to the other. It was beautiful. The droplets of water on the glass exterior gave off more explosions of color. Santana felt like she was inside of a kaleidoscope. She looked at Brittany again and found her covered in the same colors as what was outside of their gondola. Santana found her far more captivating a sight. She momentarily forgot how to breathe.

The wheel stopped and Santana took in a gasping inhale of air.

"You okay?" Brittany whispered, not wanting to break whatever moment they'd just shared. Santana felt Brittany's hand on her back, rubbing up and down. It was comforting until Santana looked behind Brittany, through the glass and at the scene behind. Seattle and its surrounding areas, lit up like cotton candy would've been a beautiful sight if Santana hadn't suddenly been reminded of how high up they were.

"I suppose now would be a bad time to tell you I'm scared of heights?" Santana whipped herself around, looking out towards the bay, gripping the edge of the bench, trying to ignore that they were now at the highest point on the wheel.

"I am off to an excellent start with you, aren't I?" Brittany's voice was somehow darker than Santana had thought possible. It was enough of a surprise for Santana to risk a look at Brittany again. The woman had a hand in her hair, holding it from falling into her face as her head faced the floor. She looked sad, like she had just lost something really important to her.

"I don't think I've actually complained, yet." Santana pointed out

"Yeah, but..." Brittany brought her eyes up to meet Santana's. They were glossier than they should be and there was a slight wobble to her lip. Santana's heart seemed to physically ache at the sight.

"Hey, now, no." Santana moved closer to Brittany, rubbed her hand across strong shoulders and through blonde hair. "God, if you don't look like the saddest panda." Santana let out a soft chuckle as she pulled Brittany closer and kissed her temple. "What's really going on? There's no way you're in tears 'cause you brought a smokin' hot girl up into the sky during sunset." Santana lightly bumped her head into Brittany's, "Unless you've just realized that I am a hideous monster."

"I didn't think it'd take so long for us to get here." Brittany moved her head into a more comfortable position on Santana's shoulder, "I'm exhausted, actually. Things have been kinda crazy at Nemo's lately."

"Well, I'm not normally the cuddly sort, but I do have a thing for pandas, so..." Santana shifted their position so that she was leaning against the glass exterior and Brittany was laid upon her chest. Brittany moved Santana's arms so that they were holding her and intertwined their hands. "Just take a little nap until our ride is done."

Looking out towards the bay really was quite beautiful. It was easy for Santana to forget where she was, that she was probably hundreds of feet off the ground depending upon the math of some person who probably never even heard of her kind of music. She could pretend that she was on top of a mountain, a sturdy mountain that she couldn't easily fall off of. What she couldn't forget, nor ignore, was the beautiful woman who currently used her as a pillow. 

Santana really wasn't the cuddly type. She rarely hugged Quinn, and they've been best friends for the majority of their lives. Former lovers either never wanted to or they came across as too clingy for Santana. Brittany's new, and they're still getting to know each other, but somehow Santana didn't mind the physicality. In fact, she liked it. There was something about Brittany's touch that made her feel as if she was taking a breath of fresh air after holding her breath for too long. She liked Brittany's forwardness, too. With other people it had always been slightly annoying, their dogged determination to capture her attention and get something more out of her, but Brittany's different. There's an innocence about it. Santana believes her when Brittany says that she can't help herself, that she's not normally like this. Santana doesn't feel threatened or annoyed, merely flustered, and that kind of freaks her out.

She probably should not talk to Quinn about this.

Santana forgot to count the rotations of the wheel and, instead, got lost in counting Brittany's even breaths. The wheel slowed down as they returned to the ground way too fast for Santana's liking. Sam looked apologetic as he moved toward the door of the gondola.

"Britt," Santana squeezed her arms. "Hey, wake up, the rides finished."

"Mmm, five more minutes, babe." Brittany mumbled out and somehow managed to burrow further into Santana's embrace.

"Uh." Santana's eyes widened and her body stiffened. She liked that far too much. She wouldn't mind hearing that in the mornings. This was way too soon to be thinking about that, let alone forever. Her brain stalled. She registered the cold night air entering the gondola from Sam having opened the door.

"She does that." Sam smiled ruefully at Santana. "Too busy taking care of others to take care of herself, you know?" Sam entered the gondola. "Here, this is how you can get her up." Sam crouched down next to Brittany's ear and said, "Wow, Doctor, it really is bigger on the inside!"

"Wanky." Santana muttered as Brittany shot straight up, holding an arm outstretched.

"My Sonic Screwdriver works on wood!" Brittany practically shouted.

Sam fell over as he laughed, he clutched his stomach and Brittany looked around disoriented. When her eyes landed on Santana they widened and her ears and cheeks darkened. Brittany quickly looked away and down at Sam. Her gaze hardened.

"Not cool, Evans." Brittany's sleep tinged voice came out more threatening than Santana could've ever imagined coming from the woman.

"Priceless!" Sam laughed out and stood up. Santana followed him off of the gondola before she realized that Brittany hadn't followed. She turned to look for the woman and saw her on her knees, searching under the bench for something. Santana could see Brittany pull something out from underneath the bench, but not what. Brittany stuffed whatever it was into her messenger bag too quickly for Santana to glimpse anything but its black color.

"You're paying for your drinks tonight, Evans." Brittany informed him as she stepped off the gondola. She ignored his cry of 'oh man!' and instead focused on holding her hand out to Santana with a hopeful looking smile on her face. Santana took the outstretched hand, along with the realization that similar reactions in the future would be inevitable. Resisting Brittany was futile, but that didn't mean Santana wasn't going to try. She had her pride after all.


	4. Chapter 4

"Yo, Snix, I've got nothin' against you gettin' your lady grind on, but I'mma hafta draw the line at returnin' clothes to you." Artie threw something in Santana's direction. She was too confused by his sentence to react in time and had to pick the black cloth off her laptop. The cloth formed black capri's with a thick red ragged stitched line down the side of one of the legs.

Her brows furrowed and her hands moved to find the tag. There wasn't one. She flipped the capris over, looking for some sort of identifier, and found one. There was a single back pocket on the left side, and on the upper right side of that pocket was a red-stitched TK. Her eyes widened and her mind flashed back to the other night, to Brittany removing something from underneath the bench of the gondola. Santana had completely forgotten why they were at the wheel in the first place. She had just assumed that it was some elaborate—and somewhat adorable—plan of Brittany's to spend some more time together. Especially since, by the time they had gotten off of the wheel, they realized how late in the day it was and needed to get ready for their respective jobs. They were too focused on finding a cab to take Brittany back to her car and Santana back home to even think about why they'd been there. Even on her long ride back home, Santana was too distracted to think about anything but Brittany's shy smile and blushing cheeks after having placed a kiss upon Santana's cheekbone in goodbye. Santana felt warmth in her cheeks again at recalling the moment. She tried to fight the smile from forming on her face before Artie could comment on it.

"These aren't mine." Santana held the pants up and raised an eyebrow at Artie.

"You sure?" Artie shrugged, "They certainly look like they'd fit you."

Santana looked back at the pants and held them up in front of her. She couldn't deny that they did look like they'd fit, but that would be too weird. Brittany had pulled them from a hiding place. Who knew how long they'd been there, there's no way they'd actually fit her.

"I'm telling you, I've never seen these before in my life." Santana looked at Artie again in confusion. He gave a rueful smile and shook his head.

"Why don't you go try them on?"

Santana eyed the capris she'd placed flat on the table. She squinted her eyes and pursed her lips, then looked up and over at Artie, who was sitting in his wheelchair behind his row of monitors, watching her. She smirked and pulled down the slightly baggy jeans she'd been wearing.

"Whoa, hol' up, what are you doing?" Artie held up a hand in front of his eyes.

"Whatever, Wheels." Santana rolled her eyes and stepped out of her jeans. She picked up the capris to put on. "First off, those monitors would block any goodies you could possibly hope to see. Secondly, please."

"Good point." Artie brought down his hand and Santana noticed that he apparently couldn't help himself from glancing in her direction. "Didn't know you were a gamer."

"It's something to do." Santana shrugged as she pulled up the waist of the black capris over her blue and gold Alliance boxer briefs. "Kinda goes with the territory of the music we create, you know?"

"I would've figured you for a Horde."

"Why, because I'm a bitch?" Santana laughed out and buttoned up the fly of the capris. They felt great. They fit perfectly, as if they had been made specifically for her. The legs came down to just above her knees and the seat molded to her ass like a glove. Santana was in awe. It usually took her hours of searching for bottoms that weren't too snug nor too loose, but these capris, taken from beneath the seat of a gondola, fit her like they were custom tailored for her.

"Damn, break me off a piece of that Snix-Kat bar!" Artie called out. Santana shot him a look, to which he coughed into his fist and said, "Yeah, let's forget I said that, shall we? Wasn't my finest of phrases."

"Ya think?" Santana laughed at him. "Where'd you get these?"

"I was at Holly's and Britt gave them to me." Artie shrugged. He looked at his watch. "It's about that time."

"I guess I'll leave these on then." Santana moved back to her laptop and started making sure that her programs were running properly, "How you and boss lady getting on?"

"I do not know how I got to be so lucky, let's just keep it real." Artie grinned and put his headphones on. He then pushed a button that played their show's introduction.

"You definitely got swagger, Wheels." Santana winked and held up her fingers, starting the countdown to their being live.

"Don't act like you don't, future Mrs. Pierce." Artie slipped in just as Santana's finger hit one. Her eyes bulged and then squinted at his obnoxious grin. She'd get him back for that.

"Hey there you beautiful and not-so-beautiful listeners." Santana purred in her radio voice. It wasn't too different from her normal speaking voice, but for some reason it always dipped slightly lower when she was on the air. "First person to tweet in chooses tonight's theme."

"Actually, Snixxy, I think I've got the perfect theme for us." Artie cut in with a smirk.

"Oh, really, Fiddy? And what would that be, your secret love of Barry Manilow decided to come out?" Santana raised her eyebrow. This was going away from script, but it's not like they really had much of a script to begin with. She wasn't worried, in the brief bit of time that she'd known him, Artie had quickly become like a brother to her.

"Oh hell no, that shit's whack." Artie laughed out and scrunched his nose like he'd smelled something horrible. "Get outta here with that stank."

"I'll find your musical kryptonite one of these days." Santana joked.

"Hey, perfect segue into what I think our theme should be."

"I'm not spending our entire show playing the numerous Superman theme songs."

"Not Superman, specifically." Artie grinned, "A geek theme. Not only has geek chic been hijacked by the mainstream masses to feed corporate pockets and is therefore quite trendy right now, but I've recently learned that a certain someone has been hiding their inner gamer."

"Please, I haven't been hiding shit." Santana rolled her eyes, but immediately started searching for music she could use for their battle. She loved the station's catalogue, millions of songs stored on a server for them to take and play with how they wanted. Santana and Artie brought in their own wireless hard-drives as well. Those were full with music more aimed towards their signature styles, but they had willingly shared access to those drives with each other in the spirit of better competition. Santana basically had Artie's drive memorized and was pretty sure that he had done the same with hers. It was easy to do so; they really did have a lot in common musically, so all it took was memorizing what audios were different. "I gave you a gift, Wheels, and this is how you repay me?"

"And what a beautiful gift it was." Artie grinned, his eyes twinkled with mirth. "Don't front, you know you want to do this."

"Oh, you know I do. Almost as much as I want to whoop your ass." Santana grinned and nodded, having chosen the songs she wanted to play.

"Now let me break this down for you, just in case we've got anyone new to this party. When DJ FiddyFiddy and I do our live battles like this—"

"As we tend to do to start off every show." Artie cuts in.

"Keeps it fresh," Santana nods, "we usually get a theme provided by our sexy bitches."

"Twitter followers, she means to say." Artie's hands are quickly typing through his computer for songs.

"I said what they are, Pookie." Santana rolled her eyes, "Then we each pick out a group of songs."

"Five."

"I got five on it." Santana sings out.

"I totally set you up for that." Artie shoots a wry look in her direction.

"And I spiked it down like Misty May in a bikini, baby." Santana grinned. "Anyway, we each pick out five songs with the theme in mind and put song up against song for five rounds." Santana sees Artie nod and she hits submit on her computer, posting the tracks she'd picked for the battle next to the ones Artie had chosen. She leaves it up to Artie to look for any duplicate choices between their two lists as she continues explaining, "Now, as with any battle, we need to let the man I co-host with pretend like he even has a chance."

"Whatever, I totally have more twitter followers than you."

"And you still lose." Santana winked, "Your job, with that obviously quality auditory taste you have for even tuning into this show—"

"Preach!" Artie grinned and Santana chuckled.

"Is to tweet with the hashtag of the DJ you think won the round and who is winning the battle." Santana looked up at Artie for confirmation. He nodded and gave her a thumb up, he liked her choices. She grinned. While getting the approval of their listeners was nice, Santana was quite impressed by Artie's musical taste and it always felt nice to impress him with her choices.

"Y'all, this is going to be a fierce battle." Artie took over while Santana took a moment to look over the songs he chose. "Honestly though, I don't think this first round is going to be close at all. Snixxy is going hard from the start."

"Hashtag DJ Snixx." Santana supplied.

"I'm jealous of your geek, Snixx. I didn't even think of this record."

"Yeah, this round is dedicated to a special someone." Santana ducked her head. Artie had to mute his microphone to keep his laugh off the air. She flipped him off. Then she remembered that this was also a video-podcast and her head shot over to the camera that was recording everything and gave it her best innocent looking smile.

"No one's going to believe you're innocent for a second, woman."

"Let's just start this smackdown, shall we?" Santana placed her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrows.

"I think we should switch up the hashtags for this battle." Artie spoke up suddenly, looking apologetically at Santana. They really needed to get with playing the music soon. "You know, in honor of the theme?"

"Do I want to know?"

"Snixxy's hashtag will be ‘For the Alliance’ and mine will be ‘For the Horde.’" Artie grinned.

"Dude, yours is shorter and easier to spell!" Santana argued.

"Are you saying our listeners are stupid, Snixxy?"

"Hell no, clearly our listeners are brilliant 'cause they listen to us." Santana sent a wink to the camera.

"Then let's do this. FOR THE HORDE!" Artie shouted out and pumped his fist in the air.

"This is so lame." Santana laughed and shook her head.

"You love it." Artie grinned, "Now come on, deal the death blow for the first round."

"Only because you asked so nicely, Fiddy." Santana looked over things on her computer, making sure they were set to go. "I'm bringing out the Orbital, babies. This is a deliciously old track, but always quality. Fill those feeds with hashtag ‘For the Alliance’, this is "Doctor ?" so sit back and enjoy your trip through time, space and relative dimensions." Santana hit the mute on her mic and started the track, then looked over to Artie with an arched eyebrow and a smirk, "You're such a fucker."

"I know, isn't it fabulous?" Artie wiggled his eyebrows and grinned. Santana let out a loud laugh and shook her head.

"You're ruining my cred." Santana crossed her arms over her chest.

"Please, I'm helping you." Artie scoffed and, at Santana's non-believing look, he continued, "Once word spreads of tonight's theme, we're gonna get hella downloads."

"Good point."

"Also, it gave you the perfect opportunity to woo a certain someone." Artie sent her a knowing grin.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Santana looked down at her computer and started pretending to play with things on her screen.

"What I'm really interested in is how you know she's into the show."

"I don't think it was something she planned on." Santana grinned coyly.

"Oh no!" Artie laughed, then sobered his expression. "Listen, I like that you're still trying to impress her, even when you know you don't need to."

"Artie—" Santana sighed and ran a hand through her hair.

"No, I know, we're bros and I don't want it getting awkward, but I'm not going to ignore shit either." He sent a brief look over to the clock, making sure he had enough time before the track ended. "I've seen the both of you doing this dance of yours for some time now. Hell, I was there when y'all first met." Artie smiled softly, and made sure that Santana looked him in the eye before he continued, "You earned so much respect that day, you know? So many people would've—and have—taken advantage of Brittany's honesty. But you didn't, and haven't, and it's obvious that it's not because you’re not into her, you know? Like, girl, you obvious." Santana rolled her eyes, pushed some hair behind her ear and looked down. "You've more than proved that you're trying to do things right, so woman up and go getcho girl."

"You make it sound like it's easy."

"I'm not saying to be lying in her bed wearing T.A.R.D.I.S. underwear when she gets home," Artie rolled his eyes, "though, do remember that for some time down the line...and don't tell me about it." He shook his head. "But your gig at Nemo's is coming up, right?"

"Yeah." Santana nodded and checked their time, she was suddenly thankful that she had chosen such a long track to start with.

"So, like, dedicate it to her or something." Artie shrugged, "I don't know, woman." He looked at the time and held up a closed fist, indicating to Santana that they'd have to stop their conversation and get back to work. He hit the button and came in perfectly after the song's end, "That record just makes me feel like I'm flying through air, I can't compete with that. I can't."

"Yeah, you should give up now, you've got no chance." Santana winked.

Santana looked down at the message that had just popped up on her laptop, "No chance at all, seeing as how ‘For the Alliance’ is apparently a worldwide trend right now."

"Say what?" Artie asked in shock. Santana couldn't wipe the gob smacked expression from her face and forwarded the message she'd received from Quinn on to Artie for him to see.

"I didn't realize we had such an international audience?" Santana turned to the camera, as if it could answer their perplexed situation.

"The gamers must be more confused than we are right now." Artie supplied as he went to search the hashtag. "Shit, Snixx, I knew you were known in the community, but I didn't..."

"Wait, what?" Santana went to the hashtag herself and couldn't believe the things she saw there. She didn't realize that she had that large of a base—one that apparently had exponentially expanded with the revelation that she had an inner love for science fiction and gaming.

\--+--

The sky was grey, overcast, but it wasn't misting or anything. It was a relatively nice day, nice enough for Santana and Quinn to sit out on the patio of the cafe they were at and leisurely enjoy their coffees. The cafe was just down the street from the main entrance to the campus. So, it made it easy for Quinn to meet Santana in between their weirdly busy schedules.

"You're an idiot." Quinn rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"Shut up." Santana groaned and sank down into her chair.

"You're overthinking things." Quinn took a sip of her coffee, and lowered the cup just enough for her to stare at her friend over the rim of the porcelain cup.

"Am I?" Santana raised an eyebrow, she didn't believe that Quinn was right, just making light of the situation. She took a drink from her own cup and broke eye contact. She decided that looking at the red bicycle across the street felt better than Quinn's knowing gaze.

"You are, and you're scared to accept it." Quinn nodded, continuing to stare at Santana, who remained quiet, "Listen, you're just not used to this. You've been fighting for so long that you've grown accustomed to that restless feeling, but Santana, that's not..." Quinn sighed.

She followed Santana's line of sight to find a red beach cruiser bicycle. There was nothing overly fascinating about it, but if Santana would rather stare at that, Quinn wouldn't push it. They'd long ago learned each other's limits in regards to certain things. Quinn wasn't going to stop talking because she knew that Santana needed her help in sorting things out, but she wasn't going to force Santana to look at her either. It would be too much for Santana's sometimes skittish and confrontational nature to handle.

"You're on the precipice of something completely amazing, Santana. Everything you've been working so hard for all of these years is finally paying off. On top of all of these amazing things happening in your professional life, you've found this amazing woman who is perfectly crazy enough to want you so unabashedly." Santana briefly flicked her eyes over to Quinn at that.

"Santana, I've never seen you so happy and inspired, ever." Quinn reached over and placed her hand on Santana's, "I get that you're scared, suddenly having things go right after fighting for so long would freak anyone out. Especially since it’s all happened in the timespan of weeks and not months. But you need to grab onto these things with both hands and not let them go."

"What if I mess them up, Q?" Santana whispered, she had returned her gaze to the bicycle.

"The only way you could fuck this up is if you didn't try, S."

The bicycle had been joined by a man and a young boy. They shared similar traits; Santana figured them to be father and son. The man handed his cloth bag of groceries to the young boy, who grabbed onto the bottom of the bag with both arms. He looked like he might topple over, but stood his ground. The man unlocked the bicycle from the post and took the bag of groceries from the boy, putting them in the basket on the front of the bike. The boy, impatient from waiting so long to get onto the bike, used the man's somewhat baggy pant leg to crawl up to his special seat's height. He stuck his foot on the cargo pocket of the pants to gain just the right amount of leverage to launch him onto the seat. The man had been watching, making sure that nothing bad could happen to the boy, and simply shook his head and laughed at the boy's victorious summit.

"Life is this frustratingly beautiful experience. You can plan and fret and try to control it all you want, but it's going to do what it wants. You just need to learn when to let go and enjoy the opportunities it offers you."

"Okay Yoda, you've been reading too much philosophy again." Santana returned her gaze to Quinn and smirked.

"Yeah, well, someone has to keep your ass on the right side of the force."

"Light side, Q. Light side." Santana snorted.

"Whatever." Quinn winked.

Their conversation paused for a moment, both of them taking in their coffees and their surroundings. Quinn was just trying to give Santana some time to center before she brought up another topic. "I think you should use your newly realized popularity." Quinn said it softly, not sure how Santana would react, even after having time to calm her thoughts.

"How so?" Santana leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.

"Change your upcoming gig at Nemo's into an album release party." Quinn stroked a finger around the rim of her cup; she knew the idea was a huge suggestion. She wasn't about to attempt eye contact.

"You've got to be shitting me."

"I shit you not." Quinn looked up wryly.

"Q, I don't need that pressure."

"What pressure? Your album has been perfect since those first tracks you let me listen to."

"That was the roughest of roughs, Q." Santana ran a hand through her hair and let out a frustrated huff, "And only a couple of tracks, not an entire album."

"True, but I know you've been working practically non-stop up in your little studio. So, I'm fairly confident that you're at the point where you're needlessly tweaking things that don't need to be tweaked, because you're over thinking instead of actually listening." Quinn raised an eyebrow and dared Santana to prove her wrong.

"Whoa, Q, I'll know for next time that 'want to get a coffee' is actually code for 'lecture Santana on her life choices' time." Santana scowled and looked back across the street; the bicycle was no longer there.

"Oh, whatever, Ms. Huffsalot." Quinn rolled her eyes, "Just think about it."

"Only to keep you from nagging me incessantly about it."


	5. Chapter 5

Santana's not a runner. She's heard of people supposedly reaching some great high or whatever from running, but she's yet to experience such a thing. She does it for health. She does it 'cause she really loves her neon-rainbow colored running shoes. She does it because her short black running shorts make her legs look fucking fantastic. Santana hates running, but there are a lot of positives that come along with it. Mostly it's become the one place where she can concentrate on her albums. She’s been trying to complete an album of her own for about ten years now, but she’s never been completely satisfied. Her reasoning is simple: if she needs to produce and release it on her own, it needs to be as close to perfect as she can get it.

As much as she'd love to be the kind of person who could sit on her comfortable couch in her studio and just listen to her tracks as a whole -- the way she intends her albums to be -- being in the studio is too distracting. Not just that, but when she hears something that disrupts the flow she had intended; her palms start itching, her fingers twitch, and it's not long before she's playing with the songs instead of listening through the playlist in its entirety.

So she started running. For one thing it got her out of the house and she got to experience different aspects of the cities she's lived in. Her albums aren't conventional running tracks. They're not meant to be. They work perfectly well for Santana though, because her entire purpose for running is to listen to her finished mixes in completion. Her ever changing scenery is something that goes with the music she makes. She loved experiencing the changing seasons of Central Park via her own personal soundtracks. While in Los Angeles she got to see the beautiful vistas of Griffith Park and think on how crazy it was that there's this mountain in the middle of Los Angeles and somehow the side you lived on made all the difference in the way of life you led.

Quinn suggested she check out Gas Works Park for a run. She had merely shrugged at Santana's raised eyebrow at the suggestion. Sometimes Santana hated that Quinn knew her as well as she did, that Quinn knew Santana would rather find out on her own.

Seattle was an interesting place, full of quirky people and quirky things. It was a place full of personality. So, Santana really shouldn't have been surprised to come to this park on the edge of the water and come across this random ass... ancient industrial plant in the middle of this field of grass.

Santana had been mumbling to herself on the drive down to Wallingford that this place better be worth it or Quinn would owe her some dinner. Not that Santana actually doubted Quinn's recommendation, she was just hoping to get Quinn to make another one of her exquisite dinners, they'd both been too busy lately and getting leftovers cold from the fridge just wasn’t the same. The place was actually interesting though, and it was sort of a trip to see something ripped from the past in such well kept condition. It wasn't like traditional plants either; whoever made this plant had a taste for the artistic. The plant was sort of beautiful.

She didn't mind staring at it on her loops around the park. She certainly didn't mind overlooking the bay either. Santana was surrounded with just the right kind of views for her to truly be able to lose herself and focus on her music.

Santana tended to forget how long she runs for, or how many times she's listened to her album -- forwards, backwards and shuffled -- she just focused on all the things she needed to until she's figured out her problems. Amazingly enough, Santana hadn't really found many. She actually spent some extra time going around the park just trying to force herself to find things wrong with her album, but she couldn't. Just a couple of minute things, minor little changes like a snare just a half second longer on this certain point of this track, and even then there weren't many of those. She was notorious for completely shredding apart her albums until Quinn would tell her to shut up because there was nothing else she could do to top something that was already amazing. (She really loved the fact that she has someone like Quinn in her life.)

Santana rarely likes her mixes on the tenth revision, but the first complete go through? For her premiere album no less? That was completely unheard of and she didn't quite know what to do with it. She was so confused, in fact, that she had slowed down her run and started to walk and that walking turned into a sort of hapless wander. Santana caught herself just before she walked into the fence blocking off one of the large rusted foci of the park. She shook her head. She needed to get herself home before something happened to her.

Santana turned around to head to her car, but was greeted by the most beautiful blue she'd ever seen.

"Brittany?" Santana took a step backward, her back hitting the fence and startling her even more than running into _her_ here.

"You didn't eat the grass here, did you?" Brittany stepped closer. "Because, like, there's all sorts of chemicals in the soil and I'd really hate it if you got sick and died."

"No, what? Santana scrunched her brow.

"You just looked really out of it." Brittany nodded her head towards the fence that Santana was pinned against. "I was playing frisbee with Alexander McQueen when I saw you running by." Brittany nodded down at the beautiful chocolate-grey pit bull that was standing patiently beside her. "I waved and called your name, but I guess you didn't hear me. You just started walking weird, though. I didn't want to interrupt you, in case you were doing some interpretive dance or something, but I had to follow you in case there was something actually wrong, you know?"

"I'm fine Britt." Santana gave a crooked smile, touched at the thought of Brittany looking after her.

"Good, you ran a lot, which totally explains your legs." Brittany paused to look at said legs, when the moment lengthened and Santana noticed a rosy hue start to tint Brittany's chest, Santana rubbed her calves together trying to distract the woman. Brittany let out a quiet whimper, that Santana barely heard (she bit her lip to prevent herself from reacting to hearing it), and then continued talking, "I figured, but then you almost walked into Mr. Fence here and --"

"Yeah, I just got caught up in my album." Santana scratched her nose to try and hide her embarrassment.

"But you don't have an album --" Brittany said, her lips pursed and brow furrowed, but then her eyes grew wide and her expression slackened, "You're releasing an album!"

"Shh Britt, keep it down." Santana reached out her hand to cover Brittany's mouth. She looked around, not wanting attention to be drawn to them, especially towards her and anything having to do with her album. Something wet stroked against her palm and Santana ripped her hand away from Brittany's mouth, "Ew, gross, Britt! You don't know where my hand has been."

"Maybe, but I totally know where I'd like it to go." Brittany grinned and wiggled her eyebrows.

"Seriously?" Santana snorted and shook her head.

"I don't want to lie to you Santana." Brittany stepped forward, bringing their torsos into contact, "I want you and I won’t be satisfied until you're mine." Brittany slowly moved her head forward, keeping eye contact with Santana who licked her lips and swallowed, but gave no indication that she didn't want Brittany in her space. Santana licked her lips again and moved her head forward, tired of waiting for the contact, tired of holding back with Brittany at all. She inhaled just before their lips met, forever etching into her mind the scent of Brittany and the feel of soft confident lips.

Santana doesn't know how long they kissed against that fence, her brain shorted out at the contact having gone into sensory overload with everything feeling, smelling and tasting so perfect to her. She'll assume that it was good and that it was a while, because she needed to catch her breath and noticed Brittany's slightly heaving chest. Good, that was a good thing; if Brittany hadn't liked it she probably wouldn't have kept kissing her. Just because Santana was well skilled in the kissing department didn't mean people would continue to kiss her if they didn't want to. She might be over thinking again. She heard music flowing into the silence between their breaths. Her album seeped into her consciousness as she stared into the darkened blues of Brittany's eyes. Santana will forever associate this song with Brittany now. The whole album is Brittany, if she were being completely honest. Santana hadn't been this inspired in her life ever, not for so long. Certainly not long enough to create an entire album of quality songs. Santana feels something warm expand inside her chest, it takes her over and makes it harder to breathe and before she knows it words are tumbling out of her mouth.

"Go out with me?" Santana bites her lip and holds her breath. She couldn't breathe right now even if she wanted to.

"But we are out?" Brittany scrunches her brow and looks around them.

"You know what I mean: a date." Santana became aware that her hands had somehow managed to find Brittany's hips and were lightly holding on. Her body totally sucks, betraying her like that.

"That's all it took?" Brittany smirked. Santana rolled her eyes; a grin appeared on her face in the process.

"No, we've been dancing around this for some time now and I've forgotten why I was fighting in the first place. I mean, you keep showing up in my life, it's got to mean something." Santana moved a hand up to a strand of hair that had come undone from Brittany's bun and moved it behind her ear. She traced the shell down to Brittany's jaw and traced it lightly as she contemplated not waiting for Brittany's response, but going for another kiss.

"Hmm, I don't know." Brittany licked her lips, but Santana ripped her eyes away to look Brittany in the eye, suddenly worried that Brittany would say no. Santana missed the way that Brittany's lips had shifted into an impish grin. "What's in it for me?"

"The date or in the long run?"

"Ooh, good answer." Brittany wrapped her arms around Santana's neck, "How about both?"

"Well, I make a pretty good pillow." Santana smiled softly as she recalled their visit to the Great Wheel. "Hey, wait a minute, you've been coming on all strong since we first met and now you're trying to play hard to get?" Santana laughed.

"I like to keep things interesting." Brittany shrugged and grinned.

"I don't see that being a problem for us." Santana leaned in and stole a brief kiss to prove her point.

"I'll go on another date with you if..." Brittany paused and bit her lip, her eyes lowered to the earbuds hanging around Santana's neck, still playing her album. "You let me listen to your album."

"That's uh..." Santana straightened up, her body becoming tense. "Britt, I... I don't know. It's not finished yet and I don't know if..." Santana paused, the full sentence finally sunk into her brain, her brows furrowed in confusion, "What do you mean 'another' date?"

"Well, now that you've finally seen reason and given in, there's no way I'm letting you claim the first date as yours." Brittany brought her fingers up to play with one of the red, green and black earbuds. She looked Santana in the eye and smirked, "I did bring you on a sunset ride of The Great Wheel, after all."

"And promptly fell asleep." Santana grinned, then shook her head, "I don't recall there being food. Dates require food of some sort."

"We walked through a market. You were surrounded by food." Brittany relaxed her face and took on a sober expression, "The dinosaur ate. It totally counts."

Santana shook her head and laughed, "Fine, it was a date."

"Good." Brittany said softly. She then licked and bit her lip. Santana's eyes were riveted to the action. She unconsciously copied it with her own mouth. Santana barely had enough time to inhale before Brittany gave in and borrowed another kiss. It was nice, kissing Brittany. Santana had that feeling she got when the petrichor would be in the air. That suddenly everything was right in the world, it felt pure and amazing and the potential was endless. She'd only kissed Brittany twice, but Santana knew it was something she'd never want to stop doing.

They had been standing there, holding each other with their foreheads touching and breathing each other's air, when Brittany suddenly straightened up and exclaimed, "Oh!"

"What is it?" Santana looked at their surroundings thinking that maybe Brittany saw something, or a frisbee went astray. Alexander McQueen wagged his tail in excitement; Santana wondered if he knew what Brittany knew. "I don't have dog breath do I?" She lifted her hand to her mouth in an attempt to smell her breath.

"No, silly." Brittany caught Santana's hand and laughed. Brittany moved their hands together and intertwined their fingers, "I just realized that there's something here that I can show you. Come on."

"Are you taking me on another ninja date?" Santana bumped her shoulder into Brittany's as they started walking, Alexander McQueen following behind on his rainbow colored paracord leash.

"No food here." Brittany shook her head, "Your definition of a date is as confusing as eggs, Santana."

"How so?"

"Well, I go out and eat with a lot of people; does that mean I'm dating them too?"

"I hope not." Santana said seriously.

"...and if I simply go on a walk with someone I lo--" Brittany coughed, "like, in a beautiful place, spending time getting to know that person better, if it's not a date, what is it?"

"It's probably something pretty damn amazing, whatever you want to call it, Britt." Santana had trouble concentrating on anything Brittany said past her little slip of the tongue. Her cheeks were warm and her heart was beating faster than it had been while she was running. Brittany made her feel nervous in a way that she wasn't used to. It was a nervousness that was similar to whenever Santana would let someone listen to one of her tracks for the first time. The fact that Brittany and her music were already that intertwined in her heart: Santana knew she was already in over her head and in all sorts of trouble. The fact that she didn't tense up or freak out at the potential slip -- at what Brittany was alluding to -- filled Santana with a sense of inevitability. She was already far gone and her entire world was going to change. Santana didn't really mind that though.

"We're here." Brittany pulled Santana to a stop beneath a stone arch. Santana scrunched her brow and looked around them; they were standing beneath the first arch of many all in a row.

"I don't get it," Santana squinted at the thin stone arches. The thing with this park was that it was a bit difficult to figure out what was supposed to be an art instillation and what was left over industrial product. Not that there needed to be a difference, but it was slightly confusing trying to make sense out of something only to realize that there wasn't supposed to be any.

"Yeah, no, I don't either. But I like to think that it's the vertebrae for some giant invisible creature that passed away eons ago. Or maybe they're just sleeping and it doesn't mind us human creatures walking in it, but that'd be sort of --" Brittany trailed off and shrugged. Santana knew she was making that face she tended to make while looking at really adorable and cute things. It was a face Quinn often teased her about, but she couldn't help it. She'd never met anyone like Brittany before.

"I think I like that idea too, Britt." Santana nodded. If it ever had a practical use, it was probably for a giant pipe or something. Vertebrae was far more interesting.

"It's called stonehenge." Brittany nodded and then let go of Santana's hand. Santana pouted, but Brittany didn't notice. She was too busy inspecting the side of the arch they were standing under. She bit her lip and scrunched her nose in inspection. Santana looked at the stone trying to see whatever it was Brittany was looking for. Brittany gave a quick bounce accompanied by a smile, informing Santana that she'd found whatever it was she had been looking for. Santana watched as Brittany brought her hand up and stroked the stone in a certain area and then dug at a spot with her fingers. A section of the stone peeled away in a strip of duct tape about four inches long, there was a key attached to the sticky side of the tape. Santana's eyes widened. Whoever had painted the exterior of that tape had an amazing eye for detail because Santana had seen nothing amiss in the stone.

"Does the appearance of a key in a hidden place mean what I think it does?" Santana was fairly certain that she was about to acquire a new piece of clothing, somehow and somewhere in this park.

"Maybe." Brittany turned to Santana with a grin and a wink. Santana couldn't help herself and brought Brittany in for another kiss. She might be addicted. Brittany hummed in satisfaction and then pulled away, "You keep that up and I'll forget where we're meant to go."

"I don't care where it is, just as long as it's with you." The words were out of her mouth before the thought had even formed, she felt herself blushing again and wondered if Brittany could tell somehow. Santana looked down, trying to hide. It was too soon for promises of forever, it really was.

"Good, because I plan on following you everywhere." Brittany's lips grazed Santana's ear as she whispered. Santana felt goosebumps breakout across her body and an immense sense of relief take her over. Santana rested her forehead on Brittany’s shoulder for comfort. Brittany had an amazing way of letting her know she wasn't alone. Santana reached her arms out and wrapped them around Brittany, pulling her in for a hug. "I like that you're starting to finally get it."

"What?" Santana pulled back and looked at Brittany in confusion. Brittany just tapped her closed lip smile with an index finger and wiggled her eyebrows.

"This way," Brittany stepped in the direction of the further away end of the henge, making sure to grab onto Santana's hand as she went.

Santana followed. She was perplexed and overwhelmed and really just didn't understand why she wasn't so worried about her lack of fight or flight reaction to Brittany and the intense connection that they seemed to share.

"Rachel stopped by the bar the other night, _The Bowties_ were playing again." Brittany looked over to Santana, "She returned my shirt with a couple paragraphs of words that I'm assuming meant thank you."

"Ah, Bookstore." Santana laughed, "I think she spends too much time surrounded by words, ‘cause when a person comes around it's like she needs to use all of them at once."

"We all have our cabanas that we need to escape to," Brittany said solemnly. "Maybe she likes to crawl into the world those books provide."

"It totally explains how she and Quinn would've dated." Santana nodded, "They were, from what I could get from Q over skype, actually a pretty good couple. It was the Gold Stars for every orgasm that finally broke Quinn's resolve."

"What?" Brittany turned to Santana, a loud sharp laugh bursting from her as she looked to see if Santana were making that up.

"I kid you not." Santana nodded. "The dwarf had a chart in her closet, a list of all her former lovers and stars beneath their names." Santana let out a chuckle, "Quinn was proud that she had, like, ten times the stars as the other names. She just couldn't get past that quirk though."

"They're just stickers on a wall." Brittany tilted her head and frowned.

"Yeah, no." Santana shook her head, "The way Quinn told it, made Books seem like some uber detail oriented and clingy freak. Now that I know her though, I think it had more to do with Q's personal quirks and not Rachel's." Santana shrugged, "I kinda feel bad for Books actually. Don't ever tell her that, we've got a certain dynamic I'd like to maintain."

"Aww, your secrets are safe with me." Brittany wrapped her arm around Santana's shoulders and squeezed. "Even the ones you don't speak, but come through in your music." Santana stiffened, she couldn't help it, but if Brittany noticed she didn't act like it. "Here we are! Just need to climb slightly." Brittany handed Santana Alexander McQueen’s leash.

They stood before another structure that Santana couldn't tell whether or not was part of the once functioning facility or an artists' contribution. It was a large yellow metal pipe sticking up perpendicular to the ground that led to a bright red metal cap of sorts, the bottom of which looked like a duck's mouth swallowing the yellow pipe. The perpendicular pipe was surrounded by row after row of rebar, something Brittany used as a ladder to climb up on, but Santana was sure wasn't meant as such.

"Britt, are you sure this is safe?" Santana stepped closer to the structure, ready to catch Brittany if needed.

"Oh, yeah, totally. I climb things all the time." Brittany cheerfully shouted down. She had reached the top and slipped the hand holding the key between the red lip and yellow pipe, Santana watched as Brittany's wrist twisted and a tiny metal squeak of hinges sounded. Brittany used her other hand to grab onto whatever it was that she had unlocked. Santana's eyes widened in worry as Brittany did this, she no longer held onto anything, just relied on her balance alone. Santana's heart beat frantically. She watched Brittany throw black cloth over her shoulder and put her hand back on one of the rungs around the pipe. Santana let out a huge sigh of relief and wiped her brow.

"Hey, you! Get down from there!" A male voice shouted. Santana turned her head to see a security guard running up to them and pointing. Alexander McQueen let out a bark at all the excitement and tugged against his leash.

"Shit, Britt hurry up!" Santana looked up just in time to watch Brittany jump down to the ground.

"No time to dawdle, we need to fly Wendy or Hook'll get us!" Brittany winked and set off running. Santana sent a glance back towards the overweight security guard who seemingly came out of nowhere and followed after Brittany after a couple tugs to get McQueen's attention headed in the right direction.

As Santana followed Brittany towards the parking lot, she finally had the opportunity to realize what Brittany was wearing. The nearly ever present motocross pants seemed to be a Brittany out of work staple; these were orange, white and black and somehow matched the rainbow tie-dyed sweatshirt she was wearing perfectly. Before Santana had met Brittany, if someone had asked her about motocross pants as a valid form of fashion, Santana probably would’ve laughed in their face. Santana knows better now. Or maybe it’s just Brittany, and her dancer’s body, that could get away with anything. What Santana did know was that it was a lot easier running from the cops in those pants than something deemed trendy.

She let out a laugh. The last time she ran from the cops was that streaking incident in college with Quinn. Once the security guard had realized what she’d just seen, she had made chase causing Quinn and Santana to have to figure out how to get back to Quinn’s dorm without getting into trouble. Santana briefly wondered if blondes just meant trouble, but found if they did they were definitely worth it.

“I’m parked at the back corner of the lot!” Santana shouted loud enough for Brittany to hear. They needed to figure out a place to go, and chances were that the out of shape security guard wouldn’t even make it to the parking lot by the time Brittany, Alexander and Santana had made it to her car. Santana started her car as they were running towards it. She had always wondered why she would need such a useless thing as a remote controlled engine starter, but was glad she had it. Even if the security guard was obscenely slow, he was still in the parking lot and Santana didn’t know if he’d be the type to write down her plates. She didn’t want to take the chance. Not that she and Brittany had actually done anything wrong, not that she knew of at least.

They ran up to her car and she let Alexander McQueen into the back seat before hopping into the front with Brittany. She didn’t bother with her seatbelt before backing out of the spot, but put it on as she waited to turn out of the lot. She looked in her rear view mirror before she pulled away and noticed that the security guard was still at the other end of the lot, leaned over and panting.

“We should probably stay away for a bit. Where should we go?” Santana sent a glance at Brittany.

“Wanna get breakfast?”

“It’s noon, Britt.”

“So? I know a place.” Brittany grinned.

“What about your dog?”

“Oh, Mr. McQueen isn’t mine. I’m just dog sitting.” Brittany sent a smile back towards the pit bull. “Besides, this place is totally not specist.”

“Of course.” Santana laughed, “He really is a beautiful dog.”

“He is and he knows it.” Brittany stuck her tongue out at the back seat, “Spoiled worse than Lord Tubbington, he is. But that’s what happens with three daddies.”

“Excuse me?” Santana turned her head to Brittany with a raised eyebrow, “Did you just say three daddies?”

“Turn left at the next light and then pull into the first parking lot,” Brittany pointed. “Yeah, three daddies. Which, you would think that they wouldn’t even need a dog sitter, right? Silly boys.” Brittany laughed, “But Kurt is always flying around the world for his job. Blaine and Sam are always either at work or at school. Don’t get me wrong, they are excellent daddies who make sure to spend as much of their free time with Mr. McQueen as possible. But they wanted to give him a sense of normalcy or something. So, I take him to the park. Which, like, normalcy is relative isn’t it?”

“From what I’ve found, yeah.” Santana nodded and turned off the car.

“I think they just want an excuse to see me regularly where they don’t have to shout.”

“Yeah,” Santana nodded. “Our schedules are kinda off kilter.” She looked down at herself, and suddenly became aware of what she was wearing. “Shit. Sorry, B, I don’t have a change of clothes, I don’t think we can go in with me in just a sports bra.”

“Oh, don’t be silly. Here,” Brittany took her rainbow tie-dyed sweatshirt off, revealing a grumpy bear tee shirt underneath, and handed it to Santana who took it.

“You sure?”

“Definitely.” Brittany nodded.

“Thanks.” Santana smiled and pulled it over her head. She was confident that she’d never worn something so _colorful_ in her life. Whatever, she was getting breakfast with Brittany, nothing else mattered. They walked into the diner holding hands, with Alexander McQueen following behind, and chose a booth in the back.

“So, the three of them are, like, boyfriends?”

“Please don’t judge them, Santana.” Brittany pouted and placed her menu down on the table

“Hey, whatever floats their gay boats.” Santana lifted her hands to she wasn’t judging Brittany’s friends.

“Oh, no. Blaine just throws the fish, he doesn’t catch them.” Brittany shook her head.

Before Santana could respond the waiter came to take their order. They spent the brunch talking and laughing about the little things, things Santana couldn’t remember later when she finally got home and Quinn questioned what she had been up to and where she’d gotten the hideous sweatshirt.

Santana couldn’t remember most of the things they had talked about, other than Brittany’s boys (including Alexander McQueen) and the custom fit TK vest that Brittany managed to remember to give her just before they said goodbye at the park.

What Santana did remember was the sound of Brittany’s laugh, full and loud, and how she not only scrunches her nose, closes her eyes and throws her head back, but she claps her hands as well. Santana almost choked on the fry she’d been eating, she was so taken with the sight, and had forgotten that there had been food in her mouth. She remembered that when she compliments Brittany, the tips of her ears and nose get this beautiful pink hue to them and her eyes turn glossy. Their blue becomes more intense, like staring out at the Mediterranean Sea just before a storm.

Brittany actually reminded Santana a lot of the spring she spent working at _Pacha_ in Ibiza. It was a massive hookup of a job that she had lucked into with the reward of getting real life quality experience and the pay off of being on the island for opening festivities when its season truly started. It was a spring where she got to experience how simple life could be. Hanging out by the beach all day and mixing at night. It was a little slice of heaven, even once the crowds descended and took over the peaceful isle. They were all there with the same sense of love and full of life and that’s what Brittany reminded her of: blue water and skies, warm sand, a personal soundtrack everywhere you went and being content with life. She had forgotten the feeling not long after returning to the real world. Maybe she’d take Brittany with her one summer, if she didn’t mess things up along the way.

-x-

Record stores are like Starbucks. No matter where in the world Santana goes, she knows that when she enters a record store it will feel like home. There will be wooden bins or milk crates holding album after album, each one with cover art of varying tastes. That the scratched records that are no longer playable will be hanging from the ceiling of the store or adhered to the windows to advertise what sort of shop it was. They're adequately lit and the posters that adorn the walls vary, but the feel is the same. When she steps into a store and starts shifting through the cardboard covers, Santana's always taken back to the very first time she heard something on vinyl. The little crackle and hiss and, even though it was one of her favourite CD's, she swears that she'd never heard it with such clarity. Albums remind her of her mother. Of singing along to _The Supremes_ while dancing around the living room. Santana loved how she could depend on having a record store as a refuge, a place to go where she could just work through her problems while sifting through everything trying to find that golden nugget of an album. It was almost as if she was stepping into her mother's arms for a hug whenever she entered such a store. Not quite the same, Santana sent herself a mental note to call her mom soon for an update.

She was trying to plan a date for her and Brittany and was coming up with nothing. Santana kept coming back to the fact that there would be no possible way of topping that night on the Great Wheel. Everything about it was perfect and there weren't any nerves because she hadn't realized that it was a date at the time. Which was sort of the best thing about it, because Brittany had taken her on a ninja date. Somewhere down the line, when they're telling people about their first date, Santana can tease Brittany about her ninja dating skills and Brittany could tease Santana about her complete obliviousness to it all.

Her fingers paused their sifting, her breath caught in her throat and she stared blindly at _Diamond Dogs_. Santana had just gotten way ahead of herself. It was hard enough for her to figure out one single date for Brittany, but there she was thinking about telling her family and friends. Thinking of their future, of being together _down the line_. She'd never -- the thought -- it was a first for Santana. She wasn't scared, just taken aback by the shock of it all.

"If you don't know and don't have that album, our relationship is over."

Santana looked over and met a pair of twinkling blue eyes framed by square black rimmed glasses. She had forgotten that Artie had brought her to the store since she hadn't found it on her own yet. He had his arms crossed and had his shoulder leaned against the bins she had been looking at moments ago. Santana could tell that he was amused, but also a little bit concerned. Artie had become a true friend to her, their work relationship easily transitioned into a close friendship. Their long work nights that ended in the pre-dawn hours easily led to them touring the all night diners, being too wired from the show and needing to calm down over greasy food and surrounded by kitchy decor.

"I just got caught up picturing you in your next costume for the show." Santana tilted her head and smirked.

"Oh, girl, please. Been there, done that, got the tattoo." Artie laughed. Santana loved the way he laughed, how he tended to cover his mouth and scrunch forward, when he thought something was really funny.

"You better have taken pictures, because I needs ta see this." Santana squeezed his arm and smiled. "Also, I want to hear your Bowie."

"Are you sure about this?" Artie raised an eyebrow and picked up the album from the bin. He flipped it between his hands and looked at Santana, waiting for her answer. She didn't know why he was being so weird about the request.

"Of course, Fiddy." She wouldn't pass up the opportunity to hear him sing. Santana didn't expect more than a line, she wasn't trying to put him on the spot.

"You asked for it, Sweets." Artie winked and started wheeling himself to the cashier with the album.

"Wait, what? Abrams, what are you doing?" Santana followed him, growing more confused the closer he got to the cashier.

"Hey, Kendra, my beautiful sista. Hook a brother up." Artie handed the woman with wavy blonde hair and blue eyes, who was sitting behind the counter and wearing a well-worn off the shoulder Jimmi Hendrix tee shirt, the album.

"You got it, Fiddy." Kendra took the album and turned around. She slipped the record out of its sleeve and placed it on the record player that was on the wall behind the checkout counter. The table started spinning and Santana couldn't believe what was happening. As the minute long intro to the album spoke its words, Artie moved to position himself in the middle of the store where there was the most space available.

There truly was something magical about watching Artie transform himself into Bowie. He started dancing and Santana jumped up on the checkout counter to give him more room to work his stage. Kendra leaned over the counter, her head rested on her elbows as she watched Artie start to sing. Artie ripped off his glasses and threw them to Santana to hold. She couldn't help but laugh at how far he was going for such a simple request.

By the end of the song, Santana and Kendra had joined in with their voices. They sang while Artie moved around the store like it was his. Santana wondered if he once had the same aspirations that she did. With his moves and his voice, Santana knows she would've gone to one of his concerts if she could. Santana looked over at Kendra, as the song ended, who moved to the sound system and turned the music down to a reasonable volume. When the woman turned around she found Artie with her eyes, smiled softly and shook her head.

"Glad it wasn't the Stones." Kendra said wryly. She turned to Santana and continued, "Things get a little bit crazy when the Rolling Stones are on. I've started to remove them from the rotation whenever I notice Fiddy enter the shop."

"Don't punish the world because of one tiny little mishap." Artie protested.

"You flew through my front window. Backwards, and upside down." Kendra raised an eyebrow.

"I paid you back, woman!" Artie waved his hand like it was nothing and Kendra let out a chuckle.

"You watched _Pretty In Pink_ too much while growing up." Santana couldn't resist the comment.

"I must admit to a particular sense of camaraderie with Jon Crier's character in that film." Artie grinned and Santana shook her head.

"Though your crush wasn't on Molly Ringwald." Kendra pointed out.

"Alas fair maiden, t'was not." Artie held his hand over his chest and sighed dramatically. He turned back to Santana, "Kendra would work here whenever she wasn't on tour, and high school was sorta -- well it sucked for me, but I had music and the stories Kendra would tell of her travels" Artie tilted his head in Kendra's direction and grinned, "Look at her, who wouldn't crush on this musical goddess of light."

"Damn fiddy, do I need to leave you two alone?" Santana laughed, but pretended to sober up, "I don't need to tell Holly do I?"

"I actually hooked the two of them up. Professionally, of course." Kendra moved to the register to help a customer.

Santana realized that she was still sitting up on the counter and that it might not be the best thing for business. Not that she was overly worried, Kendra seemed like the sort who would've told her to move if it wasn't all right. Besides, Artie had been parading around the store like a madman, but she didn't want to get kicked out of a store like this. Artie motioned towards the back of the shop and Santana nodded.

"I came in here so often and would talk her ear off about music whenever I could. When Holly -- her sorority sister of all things -- told her about the station having an internship position available, Kendra demanded that I get it." Artie shrugged. He turned around and backed up next to this brown leather chair that looked like it had seen better days. Santana sat down in it and reveled in how comfortable it was. "She didn't have to do that, you know? Help out a little twerp who tried to sing his way into her heart, constantly."

"Clearly it worked, though." Santana pointed out.

"Yeah, no. Not complaining in the slightest. Super grateful, you know. Life is funny like that."

"I'm finding that out." Santana sent Artie a soft smile.

"Glad you're acclimating." Artie winked, "now, what's the real reason you were all zoned out on Bowie?"

"I've got a date with B." Santana sighed out.

"Finally!" Artie slapped Santana on her back. She scowled, but he ignored her, "Not sure why this has you all emo though."

"I don't know where to take her, what to do." Santana ran her hand through her hair and leaned back in the chair.

"What are you, fifteen?"

"Shut up, Abrams. I know you feel like you've known me forever, but I'm still fairly new here." Santana looked at Artie pleadingly, "I don't know the places to go, you know?"

"Well, where did you go before?"

"Brittany's different." Santana shook her head, not even allowing the thought in her head of the usual dinner date at a restaurant she used to go on.

"That she is." Artie smiled, "I'm glad to hear you realize that too."

"Of course I do, she's unlike anyone I've ever met." Santana grinned and shook her head, "Shit, I usually hate people who come on as hardcore as she did."

"Yeah, but she's Brittany."

"But she's Brittany." Santana nodded.

"I'll save you the big brother speech, 'cause I think you understand." Artie leaned over his armrest and made sure to catch Santana's eyes, "I'm only telling you this because you realized on your own that Brittany deserves more than a typical date, okay?"

"Okay." Santana nodded. Her eyes widened and she bit her lip.

"Give her a private concert."

"What?" Santana's body went rigid, she looked away and shook her head, "That's like -- isn't that, like, fifth date material?"

"Lopez, I love you, you're my bro, but when it comes to Brittany you're a bit slow."

"What do you mean?" Santana focused her gaze back on Artie. She didn't think that she was slow. She hadn't been in Seattle _that_ long and at their first meeting Brittany hadn't been shy about being a fan. Santana just needed to check Brittany's sanity first.

"She doesn't like you because you're talented." Artie shook his head, one corner of his mouth lifted into a mirthless smile, "Brittany likes _you_."

"But she just met me." Santana's brow furrowed in confusion. Artie ignored her.

"You know that bit of soul that slips out into your music when you're in a zone, hitting every note perfectly?" Artie waited for Santana's nod before he continued, "That is the Santana she knows."

"Wait..." Santana leaned back in her chair as she tried to figure out what Artie just told her, "How?"

"I can't tell you that. That's something you'll have to ask her." Artie shrugged.


	6. Chapter 6

The station was doing its annual fundraising drive, trying to get funds to stay running and causing her schedule to get all sorts of tweaked. She and Artie's show had been temporarily moved to the prime afternoon rush-hour spot to drum up more excitement. It sort of messed up Santana's sleep schedule, and they both had to be on their best behavior. Not that she and Artie were prone to explicit content or dropping curse words like Marines, but it took a lot more focus from them to be constantly aware. Especially since they had gotten into a groove with each other and their show.

Having the nights off was a nice little change for her though. Their show was during the prime nightlife hours, so Santana hadn't really had the chance to explore the city she'd been living in. A part of her didn't actually care that much; she had Nemo's and it fit her like a custom tailored suit. Brittany was an added bonus to the experience, like the perfectly matching accessory that she never wanted to be parted from. 

Santana scrunched her brow and entered the bar, Brittany wasn't some accessory. Her head's all messed up and she was stressed out from the show. She had spent other nights exploring, but tonight she needed something familiar. As she left the station she had invited Artie to join her at Nemo's to let off steam. He said he had an errand, but would catch up later, which was sort of perfect for Santana. She needed some alone time with her beer and those perfect sweet potato fries. Her mouth started drooling at the thought of those fries. She had practically begged Brittany every time she'd been in for the secret recipe, but Brittany would only smile coyly and shake her head. Maybe now that they were officially dating...

"God, Brittany, you can't just cancel a show at the last minute!"

Santana hears someone yelling from just around the corner.

"We're already having trouble making ends meet because you keep picking up strays to work here. Some of whom like to steal all of the cash from the register, and bottles from the top shelf, and never come back. You canceling a popular band that brings in customers at the last minute is going to fuck us multiple ways!"

"I don't care, Tina!" Brittany said with quiet intensity, "I don't want their kind here. This bar was made with the intention of being a safe place for unicorns and rainbows and I will not allow such racist and homophobic poopieheads to taint _my_ club with their negativity."

"Poopieheads? God, grow up, Brittany, before you drive this --"

"Hey, Goth Asian Barbie, you need to step the fuck back from my girl before I mortally wound you with the razorblades I keep in my hair." Santana couldn't keep herself out of it any longer. No one should talk to Brittany like that ever, especially in her own bar. She didn't care who they were. Santana looked at Brittany to check on her and saw that she was shaking.

"Uh, excuse you bitch, this is a private conversation." Tina snapped her fingers to draw Santana's attention back.

"Yeah, uh, _Honey_? Newsflash, it's no longer a private conversation when the entire bar can hear you yelling at the owner." Santana stepped forward and got into this Tina’s face. "Now, why don't you go away and calm the fuck down before I can no longer contain the Snix."

Tina had been eyeing Santana skeptically, clearly not planning on budging one bit, until Santana had said 'Snix'. Then her eyes had widened to an almost comical degree. She stepped away from Santana. 

"You're right." Tina nodded at Santana then looked at Brittany, "I'm sorry, Britt. I shouldn't have been talking to you like that. I just let the stress get to me. I'll just go count stock and calm down."

"I didn't need you to step in, you know." Brittany's voice was flat, devoid of any emotion and it physically pained Santana to hear it. Santana turned around and met Brittany's intense gaze. She gulped; she hadn't been thinking and just stomped her way into Brittany's business.

"Shit, Brittany, I'm sorry. Of course I know you can handle your own." Santana's gaze pleaded with Brittany, "I don't know what happened, I just heard her talking -- yelling at you like that and I snapped."

"You're adorable." Brittany's lip twitched in an attempt to smile, "...And really hot when you're being all protective, like a mama tiger."

Santana blinked, "What?"

"I didn't need you to step in," Brittany stepped closer to Santana and wrapped her arms around Santana's waist. "I'm glad that you did. It's been a long time since someone stepped up to defend me."

"You're the boss, Britt. They've got to listen to you."

"That wasn't how I wanted you to meet her." Brittany gave Santana a quick kiss on the lips before she stepped away and took Santana's hand. Brittany started to lead Santana in the direction of the main bar area. "Tina is actually my best friend and business manager."

"Friends shouldn't talk to each other like that, B." Santana squeezed their hands.

"Well, to be fair, I did kind of fuck us over with tonight's band situation." Brittany shrugged. They reached the bar and Brittany pulled out a stool for Santana to sit on.

"No one should talk to you like that, Brittany. I don't care what you may or may not have done." Santana knew she'd said worse and often, but it just didn't seem right to Santana for someone to talk to Brittany like that.

"She's the 'T', you know." Brittany winked and left Santana and walked around the bar. She took her time, making sure to put in Santana's usual order and filled a pint glass. Brittany placed it down on one of the bar's custom made coasters. Santana stood on one of the stool's footrests and leaned over the bar to give Brittany a kiss.

"Thanks, Britt." Santana said as she sat back down, "The 'T' in what? No, you know what, never mind. You can tell me later. What's up with your band situation?" Santana took a sip of her beer. She'd swear that she'd never had brews as delicious as the ones they served at Nemo’s.

"There was just this band that somehow got booked 'The Screaming Sticks of Rick'." Brittany rolled her eyes, "I noticed that they somehow got on calendar for tonight. Usually it's only Tina and I who book gigs. We're totally picky about the type of bands that play here, but I guess one of my 'strays'," Brittany made quotation marks with her fingers and rolled her eyes, "tried to help their friend's band out or something."

"Here's your fries 'Tana." Puck, the always shirtless bartender with a mohawk -- whom Santana had bonded with over taste in beers -- placed the bucket of sweet potato fries in front of her on the bar.

"Thanks, man." Santana smiled and quickly popped a fry into her mouth. Brittany merely stood there and watched Santana as if she were a puppy learning how to walk or something. Santana rolled her eyes and swallowed, "He one of your strays?"

"Yeah, he's a good one." Brittany smiled fondly over at Puck, who was currently giving a group of young men down the bar a gun show. Santana couldn't help but chuckle at his antics. "Actually, all of the kids that are here now are good ones. As Tina pointed out earlier, my 'strays' were mostly unreliable. I actually stopped hiring them, for the time being at least." Brittany winked. "Unique was the last one, actually. But I hadn't been paying that close of attention to the calendar 'cause it's always been Tina and I booking. I only caught the weird ass band name because I couldn't remember what day it was. Days are sometimes confusing, especially when your radio station goes into money mode and switches everything up."

Santana placed her hand on top of Brittany's, which had been tearing up a napkin into tiny bits.

"Britt, hey, it's going to be okay. Those fuckers don't deserve to be on that stage. It's just one night."

"Maybe, yeah, but --" Brittany sighed, bit her lip and looked at Santana with wide and watering eyes, "The main reason Tina was upset is because one of the 'strays' I hired was a total pirate!"

"Pirate?" Santana's brow furrowed. Brittany nodded.

"He pretended to be all nice and vulnerable and helpful, but Jessie totally made a scheme and stole nearly all of our profits for the year, before Tina figured it out what was happening."

"That scum sucking asshole! I know people Britt," Santana nodded earnestly. "I can find him and have him taken care of."

"Oh, no, I don't want to risk taking him in again." Brittany shook her head. Santana didn't have the heart to clear up the confusion. "We're well, this night of loss will set us back a lot, but if we can get a couple of huge events in -- we'll be able to break even and not have to worry for a couple of months. I just need to make sure not to try and help out any more strangers."

"Hey, I'm a stranger." Santana winked, trying to bring a smile back to Brittany's face.

"No, Santana, you're anything but." Brittany's smile was lopsided.

"I want to -- no. I _need_ to help you with this, Britt." Santana straightened up on her stool and clapped her hands. She felt her heart skip a beat at the way that Brittany suddenly looked at her. "So, there's got to be, like, a million bands in this city just itching to play your stage."

"The last thing I need is fleas in here." Brittany pouted.

"No, Britt, I meant really excited." Santana smiled softly at Brittany, before she stood up, leaned over and gave her a lingering kiss. "I really love the way your mind works bab--rrritt!" Santana plopped back down on her stool and coughed, but not without noticing how Brittany's cheeks and ears had taken on a reddish hue.

"There might be, but we've got a really strong, like rhino strong, choosing process that we just don't have the time for right now. I mean, there's only an hour left before they're supposed to go on." Brittany shook her head and pouted.

"Oh." Santana tapped the bar with her fingers, trying to think of a solution. She brought her almost empty pint glass up to her lips, "Well, what about your besties band?" Santana swallowed. "Your other bestie. What were they called again? Something preppy..." Santana scrunched her brow, "The Loafers?"

"First off, I'm totally telling Blaine what you just called his band," Brittany laughed, "and B, I can't 'cause Blaine has his Masters in Music Theory thesis due tomorrow morning and the band is kinda lame without the sockless wonder." Brittany leaned over and whispered, "Don't tell Sam I said that. Also, don't tell Blaine I called him that." She raised her index finger to her lips and winked. Santana laughed. "Actually, Santana..." Brittany bit her lip, "God, I can't believe I'm about to ask you this."

"What is it?" Santana leaned forward.

"Just know that I know this is a huge thing to ask of you..." Brittany bit her lip and tensed her body, “Will you please perform tonight?”

“Oh.” Santana blinked. She wasn’t sure why she was so surprised by the request. Now that it was out there and rumbling around her head she didn’t know why she hadn’t just offered in the first place.

“If it’s too soon to ask for favors like that, I totally understand.” Brittany ripped at the bar napkin. “I promise you mean more to me than your music, okay? There are no ulterior motives; you can ask any of my friends, heck anyone in this bar. Even Lord Tubbington will tell you, and he likes to embarrass me.”

“Brittany, calm down okay.” Santana had walked around the end of the bar and turned Brittany around to finally get her attention. “If I was going to freak out about you being one of my biggest fans, I would’ve done so by now. I thought we moved past that already. C’mon Britt.” Santana took hold of Brittany’s hand, “At the very least you’re a special friend who I’d gladly do a simple favor for.” She brought Brittany’s hand up to her lips and kissed it, “But Brittany, you’re so much more than that. You shouldn’t have even needed to ask, and I’m the slow ass bonehead who forgot she had anything to offer.”

“Really?” Brittany blinked, she looked timid, as if she thought Santana would take it back.

“Of course. Artie was on his way over anyway, we’ll give ‘em a taste of what this Snixx is all about.”

“Awesome!” Brittany cheered with a huge grin and crushed Santana to her in a hug, “It better only be a taste,” Brittany said as she pulled away, “because I’m in for all seven courses and plan on devouring every inch.”

Santana gulped and started coughing.

“Oops.” Brittany giggled and stepped away. She took hold of Santana’s hand and led Santana towards the backstage area. Santana noticed Brittany nod to a now calm Tina as they walked past. Santana received a lopsided smile from her, one that Santana returned.

Santana wasn’t actually sorry for having yelled at Tina like that. It was really unprofessional for one thing, and Santana didn’t like the tone. Not towards Brittany. She understood pressure though, and how it can mess with people. Santana will give Tina a second chance; she is one of Brittany’s best friend’s after all. She needed to plan for the long run. She also needed to figure out a plan for the evening’s events.

Santana pulled her phone out of her bra and sent Artie a quick text letting him know that he’d need to get his Fiddy on when he got to the club. She received a reply almost instantly of “fo sho” that caused her to snort.

“Here we are.” Brittany smiled. She had led Santana to their soundboard. It was quite impressive to Santana, though she wasn’t too surprised. With Nemo’s reputation, it only made sense for them to have the ends to accomplish any auditory means. They could have some fun with this. She’d fill Fiddy in when he got there.

“Hey, Britt, I’ve got an idea. You mind if I invite Books to this lil party?”

“Go ahead.” Brittany raised an amused eyebrow, and Santana called Rachel.

“Hey Books, you busy?”

“Santana, when are you going to learn that my last name isn’t bookstore? I merely own one.”

“Come to Nemo's.” Santana shook her head with an amused grin.

“Why? I might be busy, Santana.”

“If you were, you wouldn’t have lectured me on your last name not being Berry, Books.” Santana grinned; she had to admit to a particular fondness when it came to verbal games with Rachel.

“Fine… hey, wait a minute!”

“Just come to Nemo's, Books. I need your voice and I’ll let you promo your show that’s opening up on 5th Avenue.” Santana paused, before adding, “But not if you talk too much.”

“You want my voice and are going to let me promote my show? Who are you and what have you done with Santana?”

“Listen, Rachel, just get down here, we have to be on in less than an hour. Do your vocal prep on the way, and don’t worry, there won’t be anything too intense.” Santana hung up her phone and rolled her eyes, then said to Brittany, “Besides being highly annoying while you’re trying to read, she’s a fucking awesome trip to talk to.”

“I find her very confusing.” Brittany nodded then stepped into Santana’s personal space. She placed her hands on Santana’s hips, “But I don’t find you confusing.”

“Oh, really?” Santana smirked and started to play with one of the buttons on Brittany’s vest.

“Mmhmm. It means a lot that you’re doing this for me, especially on short notice.” Brittany licked her lips and looked at Santana’s, “I don’t know how I could ever repay you.”

“I’m sure you could think of something,” Santana rasped, enjoying their flirtatious banter.

“Oh, I’ve definitely got something in mind.” Brittany focused her gaze on Santana’s eyes and bit her lip.

“Brittany!” Santana gasped and pretended to be scandalized by the implications, “We haven’t even been on our third date yet!” Santana put her hand on her chest and noticed Brittany’s amused demeanor, “What do you take me for, some scarlet hussy?”

“I don’t know what you’re thinking about.” Brittany leaned in and lightly nipped Santana’s ear lobe. “Homemade fro-yo isn’t that scandalous,” Brittany whispered and ran her nose along the edge of Santana’s ear. Santana let out a breathless chuckle.

“My bad, Britt, assuming naughty things about you,” Santana whispered.

“Nothing naughty about fro-yo, except for the part where I was going to let my abs be your dish.” Brittany bit Santana’s lobe again before she pulled away, “But if it’s too soon for you, I can totally just give you free beer and sweet potato fries.”

“Oh it’s like that, huh?” Santana visibly shivered.

“Kinda, yeah.” Brittany shrugged.

“You should’ve waited until after my set to tease me, B.”

“Really?” Brittany’s brow furrowed in confusion, “Why’s that?”

“Because it is so on like Donkey Kong.” Santana winked before leaning up for a heated kiss.

“Awesome!” Brittany grinned as Santana pulled away, “You taste like Narnia.”

Santana stepped away, she needed to focus. She couldn’t mess tonight up, not only because it would be a perfect test run for her upcoming gig, but Brittany was depending on her. Santana couldn’t let her down, “Britt, could you call Holly and let her know what’s going on? How Fiddy and I are doing a surprise gig at Nemos? Maybe it’ll draw in some more people for you. I’ve got to get my set up on or I’d do it myself.”

“Not a problem, Honey Bee.” Brittany winked.

“You’re gonna ruin me for all other girls, aren’t you.” Santana shook her head.

“Santana,” Brittany pinned Santana with her eyes and spoke earnestly, “if you wanted other girls, you wouldn’t have given in so easily. Now you’re mine, and I’m not good with sharing.”

“Then I suppose it’s a good thing that I haven’t even been able to look at anyone else since I met you.”

“It’s not your fault I’m perfect.” Brittany wiggled her eyebrows.

“Totally,” Santana laughed. “Now, go and call Holly, and get her to mention Rachel Berry.” Santana shrugged. It couldn’t hurt to appeal to the potential theatre crowd, and free publicity for Rachel’s show on the radio seemed like the perfect thank you. Brittany nodded and turned to walk away when Santana remembered something else, “Uh, Britt, any possible way you could get me a black tanktop and maybe some shorts?” Santana gestured at her body, “I’ve kinda got a thing and it’s not performing in skin tight dresses, no matter how bangin’ my body is.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve already got Tina on it.” Brittany winked. She started to walk away again, but turned around and walked backwards. "And Santana? With all the time you've spent in this bar, we're clearly closer to, like, the hundredth date."

\---+---

Nemo’s was packed and the crowd hyped. The energy that filled the room was amazing. Santana had never felt this energized from one of her shows before. She could see the awe on Rachel and Artie’s faces, she was sure that hers held a similar expression. The crowd barely needed any buildup when they started their set. The audience, which had Nemo’s nearly full at the beginning of the show, had let out a huge euphoric cheer at the first drop. Santana was so surprised by the immediate response that she had looked up, wide-eyed, at Artie who seemed just as shocked. He had instantly recovered and a giant grin erupted on his face. Santana let out a boisterous laugh that he had no chance of hearing against the waves of music pulsating against the crowd.

They had a little pow-wow backstage before they went on. It was mostly for Rachel’s benefit, having never done something like this before. Santana had an idea, since she didn’t want to spoil the show she had planned for the next week; she thought to do a special edition of their FiddySnixx show with live vocals provided by Rachel. The idea was to bring a bit of Broadway to the club. Santana figured since Nemo’s was known for hosting music from a multitude of genres, and listeners of their radio station were as well, that it wouldn’t be too much of a risk to mix the two genres and have people like it. She just never thought that they would be as responsive to it as they were. Rachel had actually been the biggest risk. Santana knew that Artie would be able to handle the mixing on the spot since it was a regular occurrence for them, but Rachel would need to be able to improvise the songs on the go and deviate accordingly.

Santana had heard from other people at the station how talented Rachel was on stage. Santana knew some stage actors back in New York and Los Angeles, it was touch and go with who was able to improvise or not. However, the best ones were always able to handle any situation and Santana assumed Rachel was one of them. It was a huge risk, but Santana’s glad she took it and the way Rachel smiled implied that she felt the same.

It was a risk that had paid off almost immediately it seemed. It was easy to tell that the club was filled to capacity. In fact the doors were open to allow the people who couldn’t get in an opportunity to hear the music and dance in the streets. That was the beauty of having a club in an industrial part of town, no one to call in noise ordinance complaints. Santana had lost all sense of time, the combination of live experimentation of her music (and the fact that it worked) with the crowd’s adoration made her feel like she was floating and could keep on mixing forever.

She felt a soft and warm hand on the skin of her back. Tina took the term tanktop loosely and provided Santana with a top that was Book sized that barely covered her breasts. Whatever, Santana knew she had nothing to worry about in the looks department; at least Tina managed to find a black top so she could have some consistency. Santana turned her head to see whose hand was touching the small of her back to find Brittany staring at her. Santana took in her sweat dampened and flushed skin, and the way that Brittany was clearly trying to fight her body from dancing. Santana turned to look at Artie, who must’ve seen Brittany come up on stage behind Santana; he nodded to indicate that he’d take over. Santana set her headphones down and leaned back into Brittany.

“Its past closing time, we’ve kept the cops off of our asses as best we could. They’ve been real nice letting us have our doors open, but we really need to close things down.” Brittany spoke into Santana’s ear. Santana felt her body break out into goosebumps even though it was hot up on the stage, she couldn’t prevent the shiver that happened at the feel of Brittany’s teeth lightly scraping across her earlobe. “I know you can go all night, but I’m not sure how much longer I can watch you and not rip your clothes off and take you right here.” Brittany placed a kiss behind Santana’s ear and walked away. Santana wanted to follow; she’d just have to get Brittany back later.

“A’ight you sweaty, sweaty people,” Santana said into the mic after she gestured to Artie that they needed to take it down. “I’ve just been informed by the gorgeous –“

“And taken.” Artie’s voice cut in. Santana didn’t have to look at him to know he had a grin on his face, but she did anyway to send him a glare.

“—club owner that we’ve dun stayed up past our curfew.” Santana looked at the crowd and gave an exaggerated pout. The crowd let out a collective groan. “Now the party don’t have to stop, but ya can’t stay here.”

“Thanks for coming out to our surprise gig.” Artie took over, “If you liked our set, please tune in to our radio show, and if you enjoyed the vocal powerhouse that is Miss Rachel Berry, be sure to see her In Lippa’s _The Wild Party_ as Kate at the 5th Street theatre.”

The audience cheered, Rachel curtseyed and Santana cut off her mic before Rachel could bring it up to her mouth and launch a monologue. Rachel huffed in Santana’s direction once she’d realized there was no sound from her microphone, Santana grinned and winked.

“Honestly, Santana, a true diva needs to properly thank her audience.” Rachel stuck out the mic for Santana to pack up.

“Yeah, and if you want to become that diva you need to know when to just let the crowd worship before you open your mouth and send them away with too many words they don’t understand.” Santana took the mic and put it where it was supposed to go, but turned back to Rachel. “You were amazing out there tonight, Rachel. No, don’t talk.” Santana placed her hand on Rachel’s shoulder, “Not many people are able to freely adjust a song in the moment, especially without preparation. You did me a solid and more importantly, you helped Brittany out. If you ever need me to return the favor, let me know.”

“May I hug you?” Rachel asked with wide eyes.

“Yeah, all right, but the woman that keeps me gets all sorts of jealous, so don’t get handsy. I know you want all up on this.” Santana winked.

“Despite you cheapening the moment,” Rachel said as she hugged Santana, “you don’t owe me a thing, tonight was amazing. Not only did it stimulate my mind, but your selfless promotion of my show was more than enough. I would’ve been fulfilled just by this exercise in improvisational skills.” Rachel let go and looked Santana in the eyes, “Thank you, Santana.”

“Yeah, yeah, get out of here Books.”

Breakdown was a lot easier than set up. The bar was closed and Brittany’s strays had stayed behind to help out, too energized from the evening and not wanting to have to go home yet. Santana couldn’t fight the giant smile on her face. She was excited for her solo show, slightly nervous at the prospect of people being let down from it not being as showy as the one she’d just finished. The way the crowd was instantly into it calmed her fears. They clearly were there knowing that they’d be given a show and weren’t disappointed.

“Hey, so I think you broke our cash registers.” Tina came up to Santana with a grin.

“I was on stage the whole time and cannot be held responsible for any –“ Santana didn’t look up from the cords she tried to wrangle.

“Santana,” Tina laughed, “as in we’ve got too much cash and not enough room.”

“Yeah?” Santana looked up at Tina with a slight smile.

“Yeah, maybe we should just set you up as a resident DJ,” Tina winked. “We’d never have to worry about money again.”

“Yeah, well.” Santana scratched her nose, she didn’t know what to say.

“I really am sorry about before,” Tina stepped closer. “That was the worst possible way for us to meet.”

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to, T.” Santana set the last of the cords into their box and closed it.

“Britt and I have already talked, but I need you to know that you caught me in a horrible moment that –“ Tina sighed and ran a hand through her hair, “Listen, no one believes in Brittany as much as I do. I have nothing but love and respect for her, I am grateful for her unorthodox ways and her endless ability to love.”

“It really didn’t sound that way when I walked in.” Santana crossed her arms.

“Yeah, it wasn’t my finest of moments.” Tina shook her head, “I had just found out about the last minute cancellation after having the crappiest of – you know what, there’s no excuse. I took my frustration out on my best friend and in a public area. That’s something I’ve got to make up for, I know that.” Tina looked across the room to Brittany who was putting the last of the cleaned glasses away. “But you, Santana? You were amazing in a way that went above and beyond. You got all up in my grill, defending Brittany’s honor and then put this amazing show together like it wasn’t a big thing.”

“It wasn’t, though.” Santana shrugged.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Tina tilted her head and observed Santana.

“What? I’ve got a somewhat popular radio show and because I not only carry my laptop with me at all times, but also my obscenely huge terabyte flashdrive, I’m pretty much available to throw down some mixes at any time.” Santana shrugged, “I know Fiddy’s the same and he was going to meet me here anyway, so why not have some fun?”

“You honestly don’t know how popular you are.” Tina shook her head in awe.

“I know I’ve got some fans or whatever,” Santana waved off Tina’s comment. “How popular can I be? I haven’t even released an album.”

“You’ve released tracks though.”

“Every once in a while a check comes in, yeah.” Santana shrugged. “I couldn’t live off of them or anything.”

“You sell out all of your shows?” Tina placed her hands on her hips, eyebrows raised.

“I guess so, yeah.” Santana furrowed her brow, “I mean that’s never really been the point.”

“God, you really are perfect for Brittany,” Tina let out a breathless laugh and shook her head,“Do you know how rare it is for a band or performer to sell out a show? Even in a small club? Let alone do it on a regular basis and as an EDM artist?”

“Honestly Tina, I don’t really want to know. That shit might mess with my head. I get that I’m better off than most and I consider myself fortunate to have a following at all, you know. But I do this: I create music because I can’t not make it.” Santana looked away from Tina and around the bar but didn’t see who she was looking for. “Getting to perform the stuff I create and have people like it? That’s just the strawberry sauce on top of the cheesecake.”

“I now know what I want for dessert.” Brittany said from behind Santana and wrapped her arms around Santana’s waist. She looked at Tina, “I told you that she just used to sign up for open nights at random bars back in New York.”

“Britt, I’m all sweaty.” Santana pretended to complain.

“Yeah, so am I.” Brittany shrugged, “What’s a little sweat between girlfriends?”

“Oh, really now?” Santana leaned and turned so that she could look at Brittany and clearly show her amused look and raised eyebrow.

“It’s inevitable Santana, don’t fight it.” Brittany grinned and winked, “The less you fight what you want, the quicker you get to the good stuff.”

“Good stuff?” Santana smirked.

“Mhm.” Brittany nodded, “like strawberry sauce on homemade frozen yogurt.” Santana coughed and Brittany bit the corner of her lip as she patted Santana’s back. She looked at Tina, who was also smirking.

“I told you finding a DJ Snixxy show was like the best treasure hunt ever.”

“That has to be the worst business model ever.”

“You sound like Quinn.” Santana rolled her eyes, she then looked at Brittany, “and you sound like a stalker, babe.”

“I don’t know whether to be happy you called me babe or sad you think I’m a stalker.” Brittany pouted.

“Santana, I can attest that though she’s definitely a big fan of your work, it’s from a genuine non-stalkery place.” Tina nodded for them to start walking towards the door.

“Oh, no, I get that.” Santana squeezed Brittany closer as they followed Tina, “I’ve dealt with my share of stalkers. You can’t fake Brittany.” Santana winked, “I’m the one who booked my gig at Nemo's before anyone knew I was coming. You can’t blame her for taking full of advantage of fate laying a hand.”

“I don’t know anyone named Fate.” Brittany blinked.

“It’s late.” Tina laughed and shook her head, “You go, I’ll lock up.”

“Everything’s ready, that’s why I originally came to get you,” Brittany looked at Santana and blushed, “I just got kinda distracted.”

“It’s cool B.” Tina smiled made a shooing motion with her hands, “Get outta here!”

“Okay, okay!” Brittany laughed. She stepped away from Santana and grabbed her hand. “I’d say you were great tonight, but you’re always great, so.”

“It felt pretty amazing.” Santana ducked her head and followed after Brittany. “Not used to a crowd being instantly into a set, that was a trip.”

“I think I should confess something.” Brittany leaned over the counter and picked up Santana’s things. She handed them to Santana and bit her lip, “When we don’t have a live band performing that night, I kinda just force my customers to listen to FiddySnixx.”

“You aren’t kidding with your sponsor status, are you?” Santana laughed. “I always wondered how you were able to get your little messages through.”

“I might’ve watched the video feed on my breaks,” Brittany shrugged. “We’ve got a lot of music we can pull from in the back, you saw that before the show. It just seemed like the most perfect thing ever to play the show of a dear friend of mine: my future wifey.” Brittany paused at Santana’s flabbergasted expression, “Inevitable, deal with it. Also, obviously not tomorrow, honestly Santana, maybe next month.” Brittany winked and grinned. “It also supports the station for the people who might not know about it and it’s something fresh every night. I mean, I love the music we’ve got in stock, but there are only so many times a person should hear _Freebird_ in a week, Santana.”

“I totally want to mix that into one of our mashup battles now.” Santana grinned and held the door open for Brittany to walk through.

“Thank you.” Brittany kissed Santana on the cheek and walked out. Santana immediately followed. It had rained during the show, the streets illuminated by the streetlights and neon signs of the surrounding area. The crowd from the show had vacated the area and the street appeared deserted. Santana felt like Brittany and her were the only two people on the earth, it was an amazing feeling. Brittany was staring at her, but she couldn’t help the smile on her face or the bounce in her step or the way she had her fingers intertwined with Brittany’s and squeezed.

“What?” Santana tilted her head, smile in place.

“Nothing.” Brittany wasn’t smiling; she just stared at Santana with wide eyes.

“Come on, what is it?” Santana lightly tugged Brittany’s hand. She wasn’t worried about what Brittany had to say, she didn’t look sad or angry.

“You’re radiating.” Brittany licked her lips, “You’re so gorgeous and radiating happiness right now. I feel like I could take you into the deepest darkest of places and you would be my light.”

“Really?” Santana’s smile changed, it became softer and aimed at Brittany. She let go of their hands and wrapped her arms around Brittany.

“Yeah.” Brittany nodded and wrapped her arms around Santana’s neck.

“That’s kind of funny, because I think you’ve been my lighthouse.” Santana brought up a hand to brush some of Brittany’s hair out of her face and behind her ear. “I was lost at sea for so long and couldn’t see dry land. Then suddenly you were there, guiding me in the direction I was meant to travel.”

“Really?” Brittany tried to blink away her tears, but Santana wiped them away with her thumb when they wouldn’t listen.

“Yeah.” Santana nodded and raised up to put her forehead on Brittany’s, who let out a breathless laugh and lowered her head so that Santana could simply stand. “I haven’t felt this alive in such a long time, Britt, and a lot of it has to do with you. I think you unconsciously took me in as one of your strays, even though I didn’t know I needed it, and you helped me remember what I was really trying to say.”

“Santana, you did it all on your own.” Brittany shook her head, “I simply took every opportunity I could to flirt with you.” Santana leaned in and gave Brittany a tender kiss, then pulled away and continued their walk down the sidewalk.

“Well, yes, you did do that.” Santana laughed, “But you were safe. You somehow managed to be ridiculously forward and non-threatening at the same time. I knew I could come to Nemo's anytime I wanted and having a place in a strange new city where I could feel safe when I just didn’t want to be home is beyond helpful. You challenge me in the most random of ways and it’s only helped me grow in my music. I know Artie feels the same way, we’ve had many conversations about it.”

“I've been purposely trying to find a set of songs to stump you two, you know,” Brittany grinned slyly.

“I knew it!” Santana lightly smacked Brittany’s arm, “Well, keep doing it, ‘cause we love it.”

“Like I’d stop.” Brittany scoffed. Santana bumped their shoulders together, then turned around and leaned against her car.

“God, I’m so hyped up right now.”

“It was an amazing show,” Brittany nodded and leaned into Santana’s body.

“You have any plans right now?” Santana played with Brittany’s fingers.

“Well, I did have a date with Mr. Bed planned.” Brittany shrugged.

“Right.” Santana nodded seriously. “Well, I know how serious that date might be, but do you want to postpone it a bit?”

“Hmm, depends.” Brittany leaned in and kissed Santana, “What would I be postponing it for?”

“I’m not nearly as captivating as Mr. Bed, but how about that date I owe you?” Santana looked Brittany in the eye, raised her eyebrows and bit her lip.

“Now?” Brittany laughed.

“Yeah, why not?” Santana shrugged.

“Yeah,” Brittany nodded, “yeah, I’ll just text Lord Tubbington to tell Mr. Bed that I’ll be late.”

“Good.” Santana smiled and squeezed Brittany closer.


	7. Chapter 7

They were lying on the carpet in the middle of the studio's floor. Santana has many ways of listening to music in her studio, but lying on the floor staring at her ceiling was one of her favorites. She searched high and low for a super thick, really comfortable and organic soft wool rug for her space. Luckily for her, the Pacific Northwest has an abundance of both organic goods and sheep who got to frolic as much as they wanted. Santana had never had the space before, and usually would have to lie on her big purple couch or the hardwood floors of her previous residences. But the large black and gold carpet she found was perfect. She could lie on it for hours and just listen to the world sing by.

It seemed like the perfect way to let Brittany hear her album.

It was the place where she knew she would feel most comfortable—not even Quinn had listened to one of her albums in entirety before. Santana had never reached the point where she felt an album was worthy of production, but this one was ready to go in Santana's mind. She had finished it the night before. The first time she had ever finished a full album. Santana had planned on getting Quinn to listen to it the next day, even though Santana knew there was something special to it, she needed Quinn's approval.

Santana had mulled over Artie's suggestion for her date with Brittany, she'd been trying to build up her confidence ever since. Ordinarily she would've thought it the most arrogant thing ever, to assume someone would want to listen to one of her performances as a date, but it was Artie who suggested it. Artie, who genuinely cared about Brittany and Santana's happiness. He was no longer just her co-host, he'd become a great friend and Santana knew he wouldn't lead her astray, especially when it came to his girlfriend's niece.

Santana was still wary about the idea though and it wasn't until that night, Brittany asking her to perform in an emergency situation (Brittany trusting her with the success of her club, essentially), where Santana realized that letting Brittany hear her album before anyone else would actually be a gift to the woman. The premise of a date would simply be a bonus.

She was still trying to wrap her head around it, her music meaning that much to someone other than herself. Even as she laid there and watched Brittany listen, eyes closed and headphones on, it was hard for her to believe. Santana needed Brittany to listen through headphones; she would've been too fidgety if her album was played through the room's system. Santana would've been watching for every minute reaction of Brittany's, and tried to relate it to that point on that track and whether or not it was a good reaction. That is, when she wasn't asking a million questions about what Brittany was thinking of feeling. (Santana had tied to listen to one of her cuts with Quinn once. It resulted in something the equivalent of "Maybe I could tell you what you want to know if you'd let me listen to the fucking song, Santana." So, it's been headphones ever since.) This way she could just relax and just watch Brittany, who had immediately closed her eyes upon placing the headphones on. Santana had hoped that Brittany would give some visible cues as to what she thought about the music she was listening to, but Brittany's face had been neutral. Santana almost thought Brittany had fallen asleep. Santana had almost dozed off herself, the relaxed atmosphere, the silence and the comforting presence of Brittany almost lulling her into a comfortable sleep. But the sight of Brittany was too captivating for Santana to miss a moment.

She couldn't help herself from staring. Brittany was beautiful in the typical generic and socially accepted definition of beautiful, but it was the little deviations that really made her captivating. The way that the tops of her ears gave a slight appearance of being pointed, as if she were some elven princess. She'd been tracing every exposed section of Brittany's skin for so long; she might've been seeing things. Perhaps she'd appreciated for so long that she'd glimpsed past the physical surface and was seeing into the makeup of Brittany. That her glowing beauty and trickster ways were just an allusion to her elven spirit, a reincarnation of Galadriel. Or maybe it was really late (or really early) and Santana's exhausted mind was just hallucinating as a way to stay awake for Brittany.

The thing is, though, that one of the first things Santana had noticed about Brittany was the way the outside corners of her eyes being slanted slightly upwards in a way that instantly made Santana think of a feline. It was one of her first thoughts about Brittany: how beautiful her eyes were, and that she felt exactly like she always did around her old friend Aphasia's cat. (Santana swears that cat was always trying to get her into trouble and wouldn't stop watching her.) The longer she got to know Brittany, the more and more Santana realized how appropriate that first impression was. Patient, watchful, somewhat aloof, but always making her presence known so that she wasn't forgotten. (Not that Santana could ever forget about Brittany.) So, thinking Brittany's ears were like those of an elf wasn't too much of a stretch. Santana wondered what else she'd see if she kept staring. She wanted to take in everything for as long as she could for however long it took, but the appearance of a furrowed brow, a bit lip and tears slowly appearing and raining down Brittany's face brought Santana back to reality. She lifted herself up and leaned over Brittany. Santana reached out her hand, feeling how her own brow was furrowed, and softly wiped away the tears. Brittany caught her hand as she was taking it away and Santana froze. Brittany had opened her eyes, pupils blown so wide that there was barely any color left, and locked them on Santana's eyes. She couldn't do anything but stare back, hypnotized by Brittany's powerful gaze. When Brittany finally blinked, Santana was able to breathe again.

"Hey," Santana whispered after licking her lips. Brittany took the headphones off and placed them on the floor next to her. Santana wiped some of Brittany's hair off of her face, "I hope the album isn't so disappointing that it made you cry."

Brittany shook her head. "I used to dance."

"I saw you dancing tonight, Britt."

"No, professionally." Brittany pulled Santana closer to her, so that Santana was lying on her, head rested on Brittany's chest, looking down. "I was Timberlake's blonde."

Santana's eyes widened. She remembered that, it was back when she was in New York. Justin had released a couple of albums and did a scant amount of tours. The shows were minimalistic, which only made her opinion of the guy improve. The shows had him on stage and a single blonde female dancer, they had acted out the songs when appropriate, but sometimes that blonde, _Brittany_ , would have an entire song as a dance solo while Justin played the piano. Santana remembers all the rumors that surrounded those tours, the media not understanding Justin's choice of artistry, trying to say that he was just showing off his girlfriend. Santana had known better, she knew who Justin was actually dating. She could tell that the decision for the show was purely out of respect for the art of it all. Brittany had deserved to be spotlight on that stage, showcased for the talent she held.

"You were..." Santana whispered. "Wow, you were amazing in those shows, Britt. Why'd you stop?"

"It wasn't by choice." Brittany shrugged and gave a mirthless smile.

"Justin didn't fire you, did he?" Santana suddenly had the urge to strangle a certain pop-icon.

"Oh, no!" Brittany barked out a laugh, "JT was wonderful, he was so kind to trust me as much as he did for those tours. He's basically my brother now, comes and crashes at my place whenever he's in town or he just needs to get away from it all." Brittany started to play with the string of the sweatshirt that Santana had changed into when she got home. (Santana had offered her the same, but Brittany asked for a tee shirt. Santana had shown Brittany the drawer and told her to pick out whatever while she got changed. When she got back it was to the sight of Brittany in her old red, black and white hockey jersey from when she played in high school. Santana had forgotten that she'd put it in that drawer, but there was a special little thrill seeing Brittany wearing her name and number. It was almost distracting enough for Santana to not notice that Brittany was no longer wearing her motocross pants. Almost.)

"Ah, so you collect famous people then?" Santana raised her eyebrow, "Fish throwers, world travellers, and the only boy who makes lesbians happy."

"Don't forget really hot producers." Brittany tugged a bit too much on the string, just enough to get her subtle threat across. Santana rolled her eyes and nodded. Brittany loosened the collar of Santana's sweatshirt, "JT and I would drop by local dance battles whenever we could find them and had the time. You know, just to see what was going to be popular in a couple years, see if we could integrate some of the moves and music into what we were doing."

"That sounds awesome. I don't know why I've never thought of that."

"You're listening to new music all the time though, it's almost the same."

"I guess, I mean I guess I've never really thought about the presentation of my shows, just focused on the music," Santana tilted her head in thought.

"Your shows are perfect, don't worry about them." Brittany moved a strand of Santana's hair behind her ear. "So, we were at one of these dance battles. We were usually pretty good with our disguises, you know, people start acting different when they know they're—well, you know."

"Yeah, I do," Santana nodded.

"But we got recognized, and the crowd was really cool about it. It became this jam session, of a sort. Instant creation and improvisation. We got caught up in it all, because who wouldn't? The vibe was so great, you know that high you get when everything is just hitting perfectly?" Santana nodded, Brittany continued, "It was that and I got caught up in the moment and attempted to do this insanely difficult move that I shouldn't have attempted without weeks of practice..." Brittany's breath hitched. She bit her lip and Santana noticed that the tears had appeared again in Brittany's eyes.

"Oh, no, Britt." Santana brushed the tears away with her thumb. Brittany nodded.

"I, uh," Brittany took a shivering breath, "I blew out my knee." The way the words went up in inflection made it sound like a question to Santana's ears, as if Brittany still couldn't believe that it happened. Santana had no words. "Everyone was really nice, you know? Totally did the best they could to help me and take me to the doctor. Being with Justin definitely opened up the best doctors possible for me." Brittany shakily inhaled and Santana soothingly stroked her fingers through Brittany's hair. "But, uh, not even the best of wizards could've fixed my knee well enough to ever dance professionally again."

"Brittany," Santana gasped out.

"It was a really dark time for me, I totally lost track of my rainbow. I couldn't listen to music without it hurting and I gave up dancing completely. Things with Justin and I were really strained too. Like, he somehow felt like it was his fault I got hurt, because he brought me there or whatever." Brittany rolled her eyes and slightly shook her head. "He thought he'd be a burden on me, a reminder of what I had lost. It just made things harder 'cause my best friend wasn't talking to me anymore, when I really needed him, but I finally was able to point out how much I had because of him. That I needed him around more than him not around. Boys are really silly sometimes."

"So are girls," Santana laughed.

"Oh, don't I know it," Brittany winked. "It took you how long to give in to your destiny with me?"

"Destiny? Damn, you think you're all that and a bag of chips 'eh?"

"Totally." Brittany leaned up and stole a kiss, "I was lost in the darkness and somehow ended up in this club one night; I think I was trying to escape the New York rain and was thirsty. I don't know how long I was there, it took some time for it to sink in, but for the first time since my accident I was seeing colors again."

"Must've been some good drink," Santana softly smiled.

"Yeah, well she definitely was delicious to behold." Brittany looked down at Santana's lips, "Perfectly pursed lips that looked pillowy soft as she concentrated on what she was doing." Brittany moved a hand to Santana's arm and softly squeezed, "her skin was all glisten-y from the sweat reflecting the lighting in the room. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her beautifully sculpted arms as they moved around the knobs, switches and turntable she was mixing on. I’m glad I couldn’t see what her hands looked like."

"Wait, what?"

"Then she smiled the most beautiful smile I'd ever seen as she introduced herself halfway through her set." Brittany brought her eyes back up, connecting them with Santana's. "But the most beautiful thing of all about this _drink_ was how her music made me feel alive for the first time since the accident." Brittany traced her fingers up Santana's arm, tracing along the sweatshirt to Santana's jaw. She lightly traced the bone upwards to a strand of black hair that was hanging in front of Santana's eye and moved it behind her ear. "By the end of your set I was drenched in sweat, unable to resist your siren song. Completely lost myself to the music, it was the first time I had danced since the accident and it felt so amazing, Santana."

"No way." Santana sat up and looked down at Brittany in shock. Brittany let her go, content with letting her hand move down and play with Santana's fingertips.

"My knee had healed, but I could tell that the doctors were right about not being able to dance professionally. I was too old in dancer years by that point to ever get back properly, but in that moment I realized that it was okay. I remembered why I loved dancing in the first place."

"Britt," Santana whispered and shook her head.

"I looked for a CD to buy. What kind of artist doesn't try and sell mixtapes to get their name out there, you know?" The gaze that Brittany pinned on Santana definitely let Santana know what it was like to be judged critically by Brittany. Santana ducked her head. "I asked the club owner about this delicious _ambrosia_ and found out that she never sells music. I wanted to take it home so I could feel that good all the time again. If I knew I couldn't take it with me, I would've listened harder so I could remember and try to sing it to myself." Brittany gave a soft pinch to Santana's hand. Santana looked up and stuck her tongue out. "Then I was told that every gig was different and rarely ever properly scheduled!"

"That bitch!" Santana shook her head and laughed.

"Right? I was so frustrated at her! But the owner told me that you would be back in a month because he had noticed a certain trend in your performances." Brittany winked, Santana's jaw dropped. "Knowing that I'd get to see you again is honestly what got me through that month." Brittany gnawed at her lip, "I wasn't kidding when I said that things were dark for me back then."

"Now I feel like shit for being so obscure," Santana groaned.

"No, getting to hear you again really gave me something to focus on. It seems silly, but it really helped. It was hard though, 'cause I tried to dance to other music, but it was so hard. Nothing felt right." Santana moved her hand to hold Brittany's. "I totally brought an audio recorder to that next show, and every other show since. I just needed your music with me."

"My first bootlegger!" Santana laughed through the tears that had made their way down her face.

"I started a collection," Brittany nodded. "Then I started a street crew of sorts with some of the people I kept running into at your shows. You really did have a certain pattern, by the way, we just had to pay attention." Santana raised her eyebrow and Brittany shrugged her shoulders, "It was such a wonderful distraction, Santana. I was able to pull myself out of my funk, I was dancing again, but I didn't really know what to do with my life now that my dreams had shattered. Then Holly called me up and offered me a place to stay; I really couldn't pass it up. New York really didn't hold the same magic anymore. Especially since most of my so called friends disappeared, you know?"

"Fucking flaky ass artists," Santana scowled.

"Yeah, well, the ones who mattered stayed, you know? Justin's actually a big fan of your work, by the way," Brittany winked. "So I moved out here and I promised myself that I'd try and help upcoming artists and lost souls by opening up a club where they'd be welcome and safe."

"No wonder I've always felt so at home in Nemo's." Santana laid herself back down onto Brittany, trying to provide as much comfort as she could.

"That makes my heart tingle to hear." Brittany smiled. "I kept in touch with Mercedes and Rory, two of my closest street crew friends. They would record your shows and send them to me.” Brittany's eyes widened. “Don't worry San, when this album gets released they'll totally buy, like, ten of them." Santana shook her head, she wasn't worried. "Then Mercedes actually moved out to Los Angeles just before you did, which was totally crazy and that was the most hilarious Skype conversation ever when she managed to accidentally walk into one of your shows out there. Rory and I were overjoyed, not just 'cause at least Mercedes was getting to experience you still, but because she still supplied us with the audios. We uh—" Brittany bit her lip, "did you know you have a website?"

"I have a what now?" Santana furrowed her brow, and when the implications set in she couldn't help but laugh.

"You're kinda huge on the internet, Snixxy." Brittany tried to look apologetic, but Santana could tell that she really wasn't sorry about it. "It's kinda all my fault, but if you wanna take it down or whatever, I'll totes give you the information.

"It's okay, Brittany," Santana smiled softly and shook her head in mild disbelief.

"We didn't upload all of your performances, we're a bit too protective over it to do that. You were ours first and we were the ones who had to figure out your bizarre ass show schedule." Brittany looked innocently up at Santana and her raised eyebrow. "I made all my friends fans, just because I always had your bootlegs playing in my off time, or when I was cleaning or setting up the bar. I don't know if you noticed how my friends seemed to kinda recognize your name when I introduced you?"

"Britt, your friends are about as subtle as an elephant walking on eggshells," Santana laughed, "but it certainly makes sense now. I'm surprised they're not sick of me."

"Don't get me wrong, I love you, but you weren't all I listened to or thought of." Brittany didn't notice what she said, and didn't notice the way Santana stilled. "I had hoped that you'd release an album or do a world tour or something, so I could see or hear you again, but I didn't get my hopes up 'cause that never seemed like something you were interested in." Brittany played with the string of Santana's sweatshirt again, "But then one day Tina comes to me with the silliest of expressions on her face ever and tells me that she just booked a gig at Nemos with DJ Snixxy."

"You love me?" Santana whispered in shock.

"I might've passed out when I realized that she was being serious," Brittany rolled her eyes. "I— what did you say?" Brittany paused and her eyes widened.

"You love me," Santana said with a firmer voice, her eyebrows raised and tense.

"Oh. I, uh," Brittany pursed her lips and exhaled. "Yeah, of course I do, silly." She shrugged.

"Britt, this is—" Santana fumbled, "a lot to take in."

"Shhh, just accept it, my heart is yours whether you want it or not. There are no strings attached." Brittany calmly stroked Santana' back, "It's late, we should sleep. You can freak out in the morning if you want. I won't blame you."

\--+--  
Santana woke up the next morning, curled around Brittany’s body. She didn’t want to wake up yet. Didn’t want to face reality and all the things she learned last night. She truly was bordering on information overload. She’d been at the brink just knowing how important her music had been for Brittany, but the fact that Brittany loved her as well pushed her insanely far over the line. Her mind needed time to sort things out, compartmentalize, and come to accept what she’d been told. But she also couldn’t release the comfort that Brittany offered. Brittany felt safe, like home, and even in the midst of her turmoil she couldn’t resist the need to just be held while she was scared. When the sound of Brittany’s melodic humming finally broke through to her senses, Santana couldn’t fake sleep any longer. She sat up and looked down at Brittany, her eyes closed and her head slightly bobbing to the music playing in the headphones. Santana reached over and gently removed the headphones, which caused a faint pout to appear on Brittany’s face.

“Did you have those on all night?” Santana was bewildered.

“Yup.” Brittany popped the P with her mouth and shrugged, “I wanted to spend as long as I could in this cocoon before it all went away forever.”

The sudden twinge in Santana’s heart caused her to visibly wince, “Britt, no. That’s not—“

“Your album is amazing, Santana.” Brittany sighed and turned her head to look out the studio’s window. Santana had never seen her so still; it filled her with a sense of dread. She decided to move so she could look out the window instead. She moved so her legs pointed towards the window and rested her head on Brittany’s stomach. Maybe she could avoid things if she got lost in the clouds making their journey out of the trees.

“You’re biased,” Santana replied softly with a smile.

“Well, duh,” Brittany snorted, Santana’s head bobbed with the way Brittany’s torso shook, “but that also means I’d tell you if it was crap ‘cause I expect certain things from your music. This album? It’s the best you’ve ever been.”

“Yeah?” Santana couldn’t help the hope that entered her voice. Her decision to release something all on her own placed a lot of pressure on her shoulders; there would be no one else who could be blamed if it failed. Sure she could always try again, but each failure only made the journey that much more difficult. She wanted her music out there, able to be purchased and shared between friends. She wanted to make a difference, like she did for Brittany. Santana still didn’t know what to do with what Brittany told her. She had always wanted her music to mean something to someone, she just kind of planned on it being after she had released something though. She never even considered that it’d be someone she knew.

“Yeah.” Brittany ran her hand through Santana’s hair, “It’s like you’re not holding yourself back any more. You’ve opened yourself up full throttle and just let it go.”

“Did you just allude to me being a motorcycle?” Santana tilted her head to look at Brittany.

“Technically an engine,” Brittany looked at Santana with a smirk. “You’re the one who immediately went to motorcycles. I could’ve been associating you with a hemi.”

“You’re always wearing those motocross pants, Britt.” Santana rolled her eyes.

“So? They’re comfy.” Brittany gave a shrug, “I’ve gotta be sexy at the club, I like being quirky and comfy when not there.”

“Hate to break it to you, babe, but you’d be sexy even in harem pants.” Santana licked her lips.

“Harem pants?” Brittany laughed.

“Potato sacks are so cliché,” Santana smiled, “besides, have you seen harem pants? People look like they’re walking around with a full dirty diaper.” Santana scrunched her nose and shook her head.

“I bet their crotches are very comfortable though.”

“Wanky.”

“Yeah, that didn’t come out right at all.” Brittany scrunched her nose.

“How comfortable is your crotch, Britt?” Santana laughed and Brittany huffed.

“Super comfy, since I’m not wearing any bottoms.”

“I guess we’re lucky my old jersey is large enough to cover you up.”

“I don’t know about that,” Brittany stated, and Santana could hear the playfulness in her voice. Santana brought her hand up to her face and covered it for a moment.

“You’re gonna kill me, Britt,” Santana groaned.

“Probably, but I’ll totally let you recover before trying to kill you again,” Brittany grinned. Santana rubbed her face with a heavy sigh.

“Brittany, we should probably—“ Santana started before being interrupted by the sound of the studio’s door banging open.

“Tana, I’ve let you sleep long enough, I want my breakfast and I want it now—“ Quinn’s voice paused, “Oh, hi. Uhm, coffee?”

Santana sat up and turned around to find Quinn looking like a deer in the headlights and holding out her mug to Brittany, who was back to her default neutral expression and blinking at Quinn. Santana let out a strained laugh that seemed to bring the women back to reality.

“Sure, thank you,” Brittany smiled. Quinn handed the mug over and looked at Santana with raised eyebrows. Santana shrugged.

“Santana, everyone’s here, and waiting for you to make them breakfast.” Quinn rolled her eyes and looked at Brittany, “It’s good that you’re here, Brittany. Mike will have someone to talk to when Santana, Artie and I get on one of our inevitable debates about good musical taste.”

“For the last time, Quinn, Justin Beiber is not better than One Direction,” Santana said, now standing, as she offered Brittany a hand to help her stand up.

“Sam makes a really cute Blonde Beiber.” Brittany stood and looked at Quinn like she was being helpful with her comment.

“Maybe I’m not glad you’re here.” Quinn squinted, but the corner of her lip wavered from its stern expression.

“Justin Timberlake is the best boy pop singer, ever.” Brittany nodded solemnly. Then turned her head at Santana’s scoff.

“Please, everyone knows that the most talented singer in that group was JC.” Santana crossed her arms with an amused smile.

“Here we go,” Quinn sighed. She walked behind Santana and started pushing her out the door, “Debate over this all you want, but do it in the kitchen: where the ingredients are.”

“Yeah, that’s totally why JC went on to have multiple record breaking platinum records and world tours, with amazing and totally gorgeous dancers.” Brittany followed behind them, highly amused that Quinn was physically pushing Santana along the way.

“Babe, even Justin himself said that JC was the best voice in the group,” Santana looked over her shoulder at Brittany with a smile and a wink.

“Talent don’t mean shit if you squander it away and bury it beneath shit no one wants to hear,” Artie’s voice carried up the bottom stairs.

“Not you too, Abrams!” Santana sighed dramatically as she stepped down into the kitchen area. She nodded to the small group of people sitting there.

“He’s just doing it to be devil’s advocate.” Brittany looked pointedly at Artie, “Whenever JT’s in town, Artie likes to debate the finer nuances of JC’s vocals and if he’s in a certain mood, he likes to bring up that other boy band that shall not be named.” Brittany rolled her eyes and looked at Santana with a grin. She laughed.

“At least *Nsync had some actual dancer talent.” Mike smiled and waved at Brittany.

“You know each other?” Quinn asked, and Santana looked up from the batter she had started mixing.

“She’s the silent partner of my dance studio,” Mike nodded.

“Hey Mikey.” Brittany went over and hugged him before turning toward Santana and saying, “We grew up dancing together, actually. I don’t know why I never realized that this was Quinn’s Mike.”

“Hey, I am my own Mike! Mike’s Mike!” Mike scoffed, then looked at Quinn and smiled, “she just borrows the rights sometimes.”

“No one else thinks it’s weird that our world is so interconnected like this?” Santana asked over her shoulder as she stood at the stove.

“Maybe if we weren’t all artists?” Artie poured some coffee for Brittany. “We’ve got music as a common thread, or you at least. I don’t know the Quinn and Mike connection, but being a DJ for a station that B’s bar supports, it’s kind of a given I would’ve known her.”

“Nah, I get it.” Santana nodded, “And Q’s a big fan of _The Loafers_ so…”

“San.” Brittany admonished with a laugh.

“Their lead singer does seem to only wear loafers,” Quinn tilted her head to the side in thought. Mike caught himself falling off of his stool with laughter.

“He’s very fond of his sea motif, guys,” Brittany scolded.

“I’m surprised that Kurt hasn’t designed a little sailor suit just for Blaine,” Mike smirked.

“What makes you think he hasn’t?” Brittany raised her eyebrow, “Would you really want to know? Think about it Mike, I want you to picture what you just suggested so that you understand the image in my mind right now.”

“It’s the image in everyone’s mind right now, B,” Artie grimaced.

“Wanky.” Santana licked her lips.

“Gay.” Brittany squinted.

“Taken.” Santana winked as she placed the last of the food down on the counter.

“Still?” Brittany whispered, as she cornered Santana by the refrigerator and away from the rest of the group.

“Of course,” Santana nodded and squeezed Brittany’s hand. “Just let me get my head straight, you kinda dropped a lot on me last night, babe.” Santana leaned in and kissed Brittany softly and sweetly, “There’s no way I’d be able to ever let you go.”

“Really?” Brittany’s voice wavered and her eyebrows lifted.

“Really,” Santana nodded and smiled. Brittany smiled a huge smile and crushed Santana in a hug. “Air, Britt. I need air and time.” Santana laughed as Brittany lessened her hold.

“You got it.” Brittany wiped some flour dust off of Santana’s shirt, “With cuddles though?”

“Duh,” Santana scoffed and nodded.


	8. Chapter 8

It was pouring. The visibility was so horrid she could barely see ten feet in front of her. Santana's hazard lights were on and blinking, but she wasn't sure her car could be seen. It was the worst possible time to get a flat tire.

She'd been already running late, the burning of discs took longer than she'd intended. Santana finally gave in to Quinn, Artie, and nearly everyone else's suggestions to sell some discs of her album at her show. But it was for Brittany, and any other possible person like her, that she finally gave in and accepted that people want to buy her music at her shows. The problem was that her official discs and vinyls weren't finished being made and her show at Nemo's was upon her, so she decided to make due with buying a spool of discs and burning them directly. Santana didn't realize it'd take as long as it did, and by the time they were done Santana was running late for her tech rehearsal.

A tech rehearsal she had, now, completely missed because of her fucking tire exploding. She was at a loss. Everyone she knew was already at Nemo's. Santana, out of a desperate moment of insanity, had even tried to change the tire herself, but just ended up slipping and falling on her ass and getting completely soaked. After crawling back into her car and releasing her frustration through tears, she had called Brittany. Brittany, who had responded with, 'Silly, why didn't you just call me first? Kurt will pick you up, he's on his way here.' Just like Santana had felt when Brittany had told her about looking for cds to buy at her shows, she felt silly for not thinking of calling Brittany first. Not just because she was the owner of the place she was due to perform, but because she was Brittany, her girlfriend who had willingly signed up to deal with Santana and her issues. The same Brittany who seemingly knew everyone in Seattle.

She was losing a battle with her now frizzy hair when she saw headlights, and a car pulled in front of hers on the side of the road. She quickly threw her messenger bag's strap over her shoulder, grabbed her box of cds, and ran to the car. Santana stutter stepped, it wasn’t a car, it was a Tesla. It was one thing to get the interior of her own kinda fancy car wet, but she thought walking might be the better option than doing that to this car. She leaned down to look in the window, but was almost hit in the head by the car's door swinging open.

"Get in gorgeous," Santana heard from inside, and decided to listen. If the driver said it was okay to get the interior of this thoroughly expensive car wet, then who was she to not listen. She closed the door before looking at the driver and if she had any doubts about this actually being Kurt, they had immediately dispersed at seeing the man's outfit. It was somehow both the most fashionable and gayest outfit she'd ever seen.

"Are you seriously wearing a lavender suit?" Santana couldn't hold it in, only belatedly realizing that it might not have been the most thankful of greetings.

"Really?" He pursed his lips and raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow, "Are we going to judge each other's looks? Because, sweetie..." He shifted the car into gear and took off.

"It was shock, honestly." Santana squeezed the bridge of her nose and sighed, "I'm not having one of the smoothest days." She turned around to look through the back window.

"Clearly." Kurt let out a dry half laugh. "Don't worry about it, Jake will pick it up and take it to my dad's shop."

"I also keep making horrible first impressions with Britt's friends." Santana shook her head and looked at Kurt's profile, "Hello, I'm Santana and thank you for picking me and my car up and not being an axe murderer."

"Hey now, I wouldn't go that far." Kurt clicked his tongue.

"What, is that suit that color because all the blood just wouldn't wash out?" Santana grinned.

"Please, darling, this fabric repels all liquids. It's something my silent partner and I managed to create." He briefly looked over to Santana, "I could go to a wine tasting party with a bunch of football hooligans from Manchester United and Arsenal in one of my white suits and not have to worry about a single thing."

"Sounds like my kind of stuff," Santana nodded, impressed. "I went through a period, when I first started drinking coffee, where I gave up on wearing anything but the color black because I would inevitably end up spilling it on me."

"You do realize that you're in all black right now, right?"

"Yeah, well, it's kind of my thing," Santana shrugged.

"I am aware." The corner of Kurt's lips raised slightly. "Why aren't you wearing the originals? They would've at least kept the majority of your body dry and mud free."

"The whats?" Santana scrunched her brow.

"Hello, practically married to Blaine and Sam? I know Brittany took you on the tour."

"Man, those TK threads must be something special if everyone keeps making a big deal of them," Santana scrunched her brow. "I don't know, I was worried, I guess?"

"Worried?"

"Well, I spent a huge amount of time doing my best to be an anonymous artist. Then all of a sudden I move again and I've got a radio show with a podcast and videocast, and I'm releasing an album? I just didn't want to suddenly have a new look as well, not for my gigs at least."

"So a custom tailored black suit is too different from a black tank top and black skinnies?" The way Kurt enunciated his words only brought to the forefront how silly it all sounded.

"Well, when you say it like that..." Santana laughed. "I wouldn't be able to play with the jacket on anyway. Well, I mean I could, but it gets hot up on that stage. With me dancing and mixing, it's a lot of movement. Then if the crowd is really hyped—"

"Which they are because you're you." Kurt nodded.

"Uh, I think the person feeding you information is severely biased," Santana laughed again, but her heart filled with a glowing warmth. "But the crowd gets dancing and sometimes the heat can be suffocating. I love those clothes, especially that jacket, but it just wouldn't be a good idea."

"Hmm."

"What? I totally work my tank tops!" Santana almost smacked Kurt, softly, in the arm, but remembered that she had just met the man.

"What?" Kurt looked over and at Santana like she had grown two heads, "Oh, no. I was just thinking of how to get around your issue."

"I wasn't aware it was an issue," Santana raised an eyebrow.

"Well, it's not really. With your body type you could get away with wearing shag and still look decent," Kurt waved his hand like he was swatting away a fly. "However, you could look better, and I'm picturing it in my head."

"I haven't even performed yet and you're already judging me? Nice," Santana scoffed.

"I've known Brittany since high school."

"...Okay?" Santana moved her head back and furrowed her brow.

"I travel a lot." Kurt looked at Santana like she was being severely obtuse.

"Yeah, Britt told me that."

"Well, did you ever think that, perhaps, Brittany wasn't the only one who's seen you perform and liked what they heard?" Kurt sent a raised eyebrow in Santana's direction. Santana's eyes widened.

"Not really. I mean, Brittany can be pretty convincing," Santana shrugged, "New York feels like so long ago, you know? It's been many years."

"True, but I also got to see you in Los Angeles."

"You, what?"

"Brittany hated the fact that I got to see you without her," Kurt switched lanes and sent a smirk at Santana. "But I was in town and her friend, Mercedes, is absolutely delightful. When you're a taken gay, going to industry events gets kind of boring. Especially when you've got the boys I do waiting at home—the random hook ups just don't seem as appealing, no matter how pretty they may be. But I met Mercedes at one of your gigs in New York that Brittany took me to, and we kept in touch. She is the perfect companion to those events, for me at least." Kurt waved his hand. "Anyway, she told me you were due for a gig one of the times I was in town. She kept me apprised ever since. Don't tell Brittany, but I think I might've seen more of your gigs than she has."

"Seattle is such a surreal experience for me." Santana shook her head and stared at the rain as it hit the car's window.

"When Brittany called me while I was in Milan for fashion week to squee about you booking a gig at Nemo's I knew I had to take my opportunity to get you into a better performance outfit." Kurt paused as he parallel parked his car, "I didn't realize your abhorrence to performing in a jacket though. Not a problem, we'll fix that easily."

"You, wait, what now?" Santana whipped her head around to look at Kurt.

"Well, I designed the cut of the clothes—it was easy to figure out your sizing—but my silent partner came up with the color palette and design. Red and black is a bit," Kurt waved his hand and scrunched his nose, "not my typical style, to say it politely." Kurt shrugged as Santana let out a snort, once again eyeing his lavender suit. "But Tina is more knowledgeable about music culture and I really must applaud her for the minimalistic punk attributes she incorporated into the design."

"Tina? What?" Santana shook her head again, her mouth hung open.

"I'm sure I could've reached the same conclusion or similar if I had more time, but I was so focused on my new line that is about to be revealed and it is anything but black, I'm sure you understand."

"Holy shit, TK?!" Santana's eyes widened.

"I'll excuse your slowness for your drowned rat status and the fact that you've got a gig in ten minutes," Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Ten minutes?" Santana looked down at her watch and then looked out toward the club, barely seeing it through the rain. "Fuck." She looked back at Kurt.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Let's run!"

Puck met them at the front door with towels. Apparently his younger brother was the same Jake who picked up Santana's car and safely took it to a garage. She was thankful for the group of people she had somehow magically befriended. She was especially thankful to Puck for handing her that shot of bourbon along with her towel. Santana had been nervous about her performance before, but now that everything was so chaotic she was completely frazzled. The shot took some of the edge off, but not enough. It wasn't until she saw Brittany, Artie and Quinn waiting for her backstage that she felt even remotely calmer. They turned when they heard her enter, their eyes worried, but once they saw it was her Santana could visibly see their shoulders relax and the relief in their smiles.

"Yo, Snixxy, you always this dramatic?" Artie grinned as he made is way over to her in greeting.

"Gotta keep things interesting," Santana shook her head.

"I did the best I could with your setup, just going off of what we did last week and how you've got things at the station. The audio should be five by five."

"Dope." She clapped him on the back and gave him a smile, then looked at her other companions, "Anything else I need to know, ladies?"

"You're a bitch, waiting till the last minute like this," Quinn rolled her eyes. Santana laughed and handed her the box of CDs she'd made.

"You know how I do, Q." Santana gave her hug, "Could you set those up somewhere? I don't know, you're the manager."

"The manager you never listen to," Quinn raised her eyebrow, but smiled.

"Duh, that's what the diva is supposed to do, right?" Santana grinned.

"In that case, take forever 'cause you're not going on in a matter of minutes."

"Fuck you, get out there," Santana laughed and gently pushed Quinn towards the door.

"I'm keeping all the profits, by the way." Quinn stuck her tongue out as she reached the door, "Own this bitch, _Bitch_."

"You know it!" Santana grinned, but it dropped as she turned to Brittany. They hadn't had much chance to talk since the other night. Santana looked around and saw that Artie had moved himself over near the stage. She licked her lips and looked at Brittany, "Hey."

"Hey." Brittany gave a crooked smile and Santana forgot all of her nerves. She forgot everything except for Brittany.

"Thanks for getting me the Kurt hook up."

"Yeah."

"Apparently he's a bigger fan than you are, though," Santana quirked her lips and shook her head. She crossed her arms to add extra emphasis, just to playfully mess with Brittany.

"I don't think you're his type," Brittany squinted her eyes.

"I don't know about that," Santana clicked her tongue. She uncrossed her arms and placed her hands on her hips. "I've been told I've got boyish hips."

"Your hips are perfect and you're already taken by someone who doesn't want you as some big gay beard," Brittany rolled her eyes.

"Threatened?" Santana smirked. She couldn't help the thrill that ran through her whenever Brittany claimed her or reminded her that she was no longer alone.

"Not even in the slightest, Honey," Brittany smiled and quickly swooped in and brought their lips together for a kiss. Santana wanted to prolong it as long as possible, but she couldn't ignore the chants of the crowd. She needed to get out there.

"Good 'cause I want you, I don't want anybody else," Santana smiled.

"When you think about me, you touch yourself?" Brittany grinned, scrunched her nose and wiggled her eyebrows.

"I plead the fifth." Santana ducked her head down and then slowly brought it back up, locking her eyes on Brittany. "Stop distracting me, I need to find a dry top and get out there."

"I'm finding it, like, really hard to want to share you right now," Brittany pouted and started unbuttoning her black vest.

"Uh, Britt, what are you—" Santana got cut off by Brittany's giggle and by the sight of exposed breasts.

"Gimmie your tank, I'll be working up a sweat anyway, put on my vest and get out there." Brittany held her vest out for Santana to take. Santana's eyes were still locked on Brittany's exposed flesh.

"Breast," Santana nodded, her hand found it difficult to find the vest that Brittany was offering.

"Oh, for Jiminy Cricket's sake Santana," Brittany laughed and rolled her eyes. She stepped towards Santana and proceeded to take her tank top off then put the black vest on her. Santana managed to regain herself in the process, feeling her cheeks warm.

"Sorry, it's been a day Britt," Santana shrugged and helped Brittany get the damp tank top on.

"It's okay, you're adorable and I love you, otherwise you would've been smacked." Brittany winked, put her hands on Santana's shoulders, turned her around pushed her towards the stage and smacked Santana on her ass, "Go get 'em tiger." 

Santana nodded and stepped to the edge of the backstage curtain. The background music that had been playing in Nemo’s suddenly cut off, surrounding the people inside with silence. There was a brief pause of confusion at the music suddenly stopping, before the crowd realized what it must mean and started cheering even louder than they had been. Santana took a deep breath, rolled her head side to side, exhaled and shook her arms out. She ran her fingers through her hair, her eyes widened at the realization that it had been wet and was now frizzy. Santana ran her fingers frantically through her hair, trying to calm it in some way. It didn’t seem to have any effect, so she dug her hand into her shorts and grabbed the hair tie that was there.

Hair pulled back, the crowd sounding frantic in excitement and only growing louder as time progressed; Santana looked over at the stagehand and nodded. She was a mess, but it was the best she could possibly be at the moment. The lights of the club went completely black and the crowd roared with excitement. Santana couldn’t help the smirk that placed itself on her face from the sound. She stepped through the curtain to the stage there was a subtle glow emitting from her instruments that guided her to where she needed to be. She took a moment to make sure that everything was actually set up how she wanted it and thanked Artie for knowing her so well. Santana looked up to take in the room; the only thing she could really see was the illuminated rainbow of the back wall’s liquor cabinet and the silhouetting of the people between it and her. 

Santana felt for and pushed the button on the side of her setup. She smiled as she saw the electric candles she'd requested, that were hanging from the ceiling, sparked with illumination. They bore different color flames and their flickering, along with the setting of heights as different for each one, gave the room the impression of fireflies fluttering around. The audience gasped as this happened and then hushed to a dull murmur as they started whispering to those around them. 

A huge smile spread across Santana's face. Her troubles of the day had completely slipped away. She loved it when the crowd was as responsive as this. It didn't always happen, though it was always her aim, but she loved to start her sets off silently. Either this crowd knew this about her, or was extra responsive to the subtle surroundings, because they remained silent in anticipation. 

Santana waited a hair longer than most would, and then quietly started to play.

It was customary for performers to use lots of lights or smoke, big gimmicks, to keep people entertained as the show progressed. Santana believed that she didn't need anything like that. Not that she held any sort of judgement towards those who did use them, she respected her elders of electronic dance music and all the genres it encompassed, but she believed that her music was enough to keep the crowd enchanted with only the minimal of visual distractions. When DJ Snixxy performed it was supposed to be a full sensory experience. 

The music started in one of the back corners of the club, slowly raising itself in volume and hitting the crowd like crashing waves. Santana gave a light chuckle as she saw the crowd collectively turn towards where the music was coming from, only for it to be joined by the sounds finally chiming in from the other back corner of the club. The two different selections meeting and joining and entrancing the crowd. The tinkling of keys, pairing with the strum of chords, and forming a delicate dance for the people's ears, met with the lights above them that seemed to be dancing to each corresponding sound. The lights had changed to one of two colors: yellow or green, each originally representing a side, but as the music progressed the two sides would meet and merge and spin together in a subtle dance of light.

Santana brought in the third element, pulsing the beat from the front right speaker like a heartbeat and a new color of light was introduced: purple. It started in the front right corner, where the speakers were situated, and pulsed out in waves along with the beat. The beat and the lights crashed against those already dancing in the middle and caused an outward ripple of bright blue. Santana smiled at the gasp she could hear from the crowd, just barely over the music that was still growing in loudness. 

She let these three elements do their dance: weaving, swirling and crashing against each other and slowly building in tempo. Santana prolonged the height of the music for longer than most would, she could feel the anticipation from the crowd and knew that she could get away with it. She held the crescendo as long as she felt it tantalizing for the crowd and then she dropped everyone into complete silence and darkness (even the rainbow bar in the back went out). Santana waited, and waited, and waited, the thrill of teasing the crowd swirling in her stomach like the best of all feelings combined, and then she introduced the bass by allowing it to crash into the room like elephants stampeding in from all directions. The candles hanging from above were red and pulsing inwards from the edges of the club. She could distinctly hear a woman's voice scream out "Oh, yes!" in between beats, which brought a smirk to her face. 

And then the show really began. All of the sounds were brought back and then some, dancing and swirling and making musical magic. Santana had to keep herself from looking up at the crowd too much, because she kept getting distracted by the light show. It was an idea she had been playing with for some time, but wasn't sure how to implement it and still keep it subtle and about the music, not the lights themselves. Santana had brought it up with Artie a couple weeks ago at the station as an aside between tracks and his whole expression had perked up at the premise. She'd have to give him an extra special thank you for helping her figure it out, as well as for helping her set it up without Brittany being the wiser. (She had wanted it to be a surprise, something of Santana's performances that Brittany hadn't experienced before.) Santana just wanted to sit and watch the lights and listen to her music almost as much as she wanted to be performing for the amazing crowd that was seemingly more hyped up and enthralled than the emergency gig she did the week prior. 

It was a heady feeling to be up there and receiving so much of the crowd's adoration, with all of her choices for the night's performance apparently hitting exactly like she hoped. Where she gave the crowd waves of sounds and lights, she was given corresponding waves of praise and cheers. Her body thrummed and felt as if she could just float away. It was an experience she never could explain to someone who had never performed before. Santana even had problems explaining it to Quinn, who had sung on stage in their high school's choir. It was somewhat similar, but there was an added boost of adrenaline that came from putting something deeply personal out there and it being welcomed so openly. It was all her and they were eating it up. Nothing felt as amazing as performing to a crowd like this. Nothing except for how she felt when she kissed Brittany. 

Santana looked up and towards the bar at the back, she hoped to find Brittany dancing back there, but couldn't see her at all. A frown took place on Santana's face, but she didn't let it break her stride. Not when the set was going so perfectly.

Which was, of course, when everything went silent and all of the lights went out. The crowd was hushed, thinking it was part of the show, but Santana was frantically looking around the darkness hoping to find someone to tell her what was going on. She was glad that the crowd couldn't see her freaking out, she could save face that way, but she was frantic and wished that there was some light at all. 

A tiny dot of illumination appeared from the side of the stage that Santana knew she had entered from. Then she realized that it was someone with a flashlight and they were walking toward her. 

"Power's gone out for this entire section of the city." Brittany's voice had instantly calmed Santana's panic.

"Shit." Santana leaned toward where Brittany's voice had come from and grabbed for a hug. She let out a sigh at Brittany catching her. Santana took a moment to collect herself in Brittany's arms and then pulled away, "What are we going to do? The set’s not finished and the crowd..."

"I've got an idea, if you trust me?"

"Of course I do."

"Excellent!" Santana could hear the grin in Brittany's voice. "Then just wait one more second for the..." The room was suddenly illuminated in the dull green glow of emergency lighting. "...There we go." Santana could finally see Brittany and it brought another level of comfort to her frazzled nerves. She hadn't noticed the megaphone until Brittany brought it up to her mouth, "Hello there you beautiful unicorns, as you could probably tell, this isn't part of Snixxy's show. The power in this quadruplet of the city has gone out, and we're now running off of generated power."

"Quadrant, babe," Santana whispered into Brittany's ear. Brittany's only response was to look at her and wink.

"Now, you've got two options, okay?" Brittany paused and the amazingly cooperative crowd nodded that they were listening. Santana just chalked it up as part of Brittany's magic. "You can go home—hopefully safely 'cause it's totally still pouring really crazy like out there—and collect free drink vouchers on the way out."

"Britt, could you get them to, like, leave their names and emails on a list or something? I'll try to send them some samples or tracks or something to make up for it." Santana had leaned in to ask Brittany, but wasn't far enough from the megaphone so the crowd heard the proposal and erupted with a cheer. 

"Dave, get a clipboard ready?" Brittany nodded to the bear of a security guard in the back of the room standing next to the exit, who nodded back in response and presumably went to collect said clipboard. "You may do what Snixxy just suggested, or you may stay here for just a little bit longer—‘till when her set was supposed to finish—and we'll give you an extra rare, extra exclusive, a capella performance."

Santana whipped her head over and looked at Brittany with wide eyes and a whispered, "Acca-what?"

Brittany ignored her and smiled at the crowd as it once again erupted in a cheer. No one moved away, in fact they just scrunched in closer to the stage. "Excellent!" Brittany bounced and tried clapping, her hands together but the device she was speaking through got in the way. "Fiddy, you ready?" she called out.

"You know it!" Artie responded as he came out through the curtains. Tina was beside him and took the megaphone from Brittany while nodding at Santana in encouragement. As Artie moved past Santana, to stand on the opposite side of her than Brittany, he said, "You got this, just sing. Britt and I have got your back girl."

"Okay," Brittany called out to the crowd, "now we're going to give you a sample of what's on Snixxy's first ever album."

"That you can buy from those lovely blonde ladies sitting at the bar," Artie gestured with his hand toward Holly and Quinn who shook their heads, but promptly held up Santana's CDs.

"Right, and there aren't that many left of this pre-release," Brittany nodded and sent a quick grin to Santana before turning back to the crowd, "but don't worry, if you don't get one tonight they'll be at all of your favourite local record stores really soon."

"Next week, actually," Santana grinned at the audience.

"Excellent! See, not long of a wait at all!" Brittany smiled. "We have no amplifiers okay, so you need to be quiet so everyone can hear us." The crowd hushed and nodded. There were a couple of seconds where Brittany and Artie nodded at each other to get on the same page, with Santana merely watching to see what would happen. Apparently she was just a passenger on her own ride, but she wasn't worried in the slightest. She trusted Brittany and Artie just as much as she trusted Quinn, and she knew they wouldn't let her fall.

Santana just didn't expect Brittany to start beatboxing, let alone the bass parts in time and orchestration of the album she created. She almost passed out when Artie joined in with his own beatboxing, covering all of the parts that Brittany couldn't hit. It was amazing to behold. She'd seen beatboxing before, but never for her style of music. She was amazed at the sounds her friends were able to recreate, let alone their ability to perfectly replicate the first track of her album. The fact that they had her album already memorized so well almost made her forget where she was and want to sit down in awe of her friends. Almost. Brittany had reached out her hand for Santana's and squeezed just in time for Santana to remember why she was there and why they were doing this. She took a breath and began to sing along with her friend’s music.

\---x---

"Holy shit that was amazing, you guys!" Puck yelled as he ran over from closing the door after the last of the crowd exited the bar. He picked Santana up in his arms and spun her around like she weighed nothing. "Coolest show I've ever seen, S, and that's before your wicked little beat boxing session happened!"

"Puck, down," Brittany commanded. He looked at Brittany with wide eyes and then to Santana, who he was still holding up in the air with his arms.

"Oops." He shrugged after setting Santana down, "I got kinda excited."

"Aww, aren't you the adorable shirtless puppy," Santana cooed and played with his mohawk to let him know there was no harm done. He grinned at her.

"Puck?"

"Yeah, boss?" Puck turned to Brittany who had her hands on her hips and an eyebrow cocked. He straightened up his posture.

"Go home and check on Santana's car."

"You got it," Puck nodded. He turned back to Santana, "Seriously, bro, best show ever. Now I know why Brittany wanted all up on that."

"Puck," Brittany growled.

"Down boy," Santana smirked and winked. "You know I'm a Brittsbian."

"Ha! Awesome!" Puck held up his hand for a high five, which Santana gave. "I'll make sure your car is fixed up all sweet like, S. Have a good night." He turned and walked towards the back door, when he got there he turned around and yelled out, "Awesome!" before exiting. 

"Does he ever wear a shirt?" Quinn spoke as she came up next to Santana, who smiled at her. 

"He thinks he's a werewolf, like from those books you despise," Santana shrugged. To be honest the lack of a shirt was such a part of the Puck she had come to know that she didn’t even register it any more. It was just as much a part of who he was as his mohawk, and the only time Santana questioned the mohawk was when he took too long to trim it and it looked like a dead rodent on his head.

Quinn reached out and wrapped Santana up in a hug. "You were amazing. I can't believe you got over your vocal stage fright, especially with what was going on."

"Stage fright?" Brittany chimed in and when Santana turned to look at her, she saw that the woman had a panicked expression on her face.

"I've never sung in public before, Britt," Santana gave a tilted smile and shrugged her shoulders. "Not, uh, with lights on at least."

"You sang in the clubs when I saw you." Brittany's brow furrowed and stepped closer.

"The lights weren't on, you weren't supposed to know it was me. You were supposed to think it was a pre-recorded vocal." Santana stepped out of Quinn's embrace and rested her hands on Brittany's hips, trying to get the woman to look at her.

"I didn't know." Brittany shook her head then looked up at Santana, "I swear, I thought everyone knew it was you singing otherwise I wouldn't have done what I did."

"Britt, I swear, it was the last thing on my mind in that moment." Santana smiled and played with the slightly damp tank top Brittany was still wearing. "You and Wheels were damn amazing."

"Seriously," Quinn nodded, as she came to stand besides the two other women.

"I didn't even know that people could do that," Santana nodded. She was still in awe of what they accomplished up on that stage. Her brain was already moving a mile a minute to try and figure out how to work the performance into her music. At the very least, she wanted to figure out a way to implement it into her shows. Maybe she could get Artie and Brittany on board to tour with her when needed, even if it was just for the special engagements.

"Please, woman, I needs ta expose you to more things then," Artie scoffed as he came up to the group with Kurt, Tina, Blaine and Sam. Santana furrowed her brow at the missing people.

"Mike got an emergency phone call and had to take off halfway through the beat boxing session. Rachel," Quinn rolled her eyes, "left saying something about having the vapors and how that simply would not bode well for her performance later today," Quinn looked at her watch, seeing that it was after midnight. Santana nodded and looked at Artie.

"Holly said something about seeing you at work and leaking video to MuchMusic or something," Artie shrugged.

"She what?" Brittany yelled. "Bitch knows that's my job!" Santana bit her lip and raised an eyebrow at Brittany, who sheepishly grinned at Santana and shrugged. "Well, after I sent them to Mercedes and Rory."

"Right." Santana shook her head. "I need to figure out how to make up for the interruption of my show, I feel bad."

"Uh, sweetie, I think you gave that crowd the experience of their lives. Not one of them went home feeling like they were robbed of anything." Kurt shook his head at Santana.

"Seriously," Blaine, Sam and Tina all said at once with nods. Santana looked at them like they were robots.

"They do that all the time," Brittany whispered in Santana's ear.

"Cool," Santana nodded and then took a moment to look at the friends she was surrounded by. "Thanks for coming, all of you. It means a lot that you would come and support me like you did, some of you going above and beyond anything I could've imagined. So many things were going wrong today and if I hadn't have had all of you, the gig could've crashed horribly."

"Technically it did crash," Sam shrugged.

"Thanks Sam," Tina rolled her eyes and smacked him on the arm.

"I think we should think of it as Santana's set being so magnificent that the power grid couldn't handle it and it got overwhelmed," Blaine nodded and smiled at Brittany and Santana.

"Yeah, I definitely know why you two are besties," Santana said as she looked between Blaine and Brittany and chuckled.

"Seriously, they're like the Sunshine and Rainbow Twins or something." Artie nodded like he was talking from experience, "You need, like, extra strong coffee to battle off their sweetness."

"It's sickening," Tina agreed with a huge smile and a wink.

"Disgusting," Santana nodded with an exaggerated disgusted face and the group started laughing.

"Okay. I think we've officially hit the point of exhausted and need to go home. That was not _that_ funny." Quinn squeezed Santana's shoulder. 

"Sounds good, Q," Santana nodded and turned to Britt who met her with an intensity in her eyes. 

Brittany leaned forward and whispered into Santana's ear, "Come home with me?"

Santana locked her gaze onto Brittany’s and all thoughts seemed to stop. The rest of the world disappeared and she was caught in an endless abyss of the most beautiful blue she’d ever seen. The surrounding people pretended to ignore them and turned away. They called out goodnight as they walked out of the club leaving the two women standing and staring intensely at each other. Santana gulped, licked her lips and nodded.


	9. Chapter 9

As Brittany pulled into the marina Santana couldn't help but to scrunch her brow in confusion. She didn’t know why they were there. Not that the houseboats in front of them weren't beautiful, especially at that time of night with all the lights reflecting on the calm surface of the water. Santana was expecting a house on in the Magnolia area, where she knew Holly’s house was. She never would’ve thought she’d end up at the docks.

"I thought you lived with Holly?"

"I do." Brittany parked her car and turned it off, then looked at Santana with a shy smile, "But sometimes I need my own space. I love Holly and enjoy coming home to a not-empty house. But sometimes we need our own space. It's her house, you know." Brittany shrugged and then motioned for them to get out of the car. Santana got out, glad for the break in the rain, but wishing she had a warmer jacket. The temperature next to the water was cooler than she had prepared for. This day was such a random rollercoaster ride that she’s still trying to decide if it was good or not, what with all the surprises she had run into. Santana couldn't help but smile as she took hold of Brittany's hand. It was a good day, with an amazing finish, and it wasn't even over yet. Any day that ends with Brittany next to her was a good day. Santana followed next to Brittany as she led them down the docks, past row upon row of house boats.

"I needed my own place too. Something that was just mine. I think I've been slowly moving out of Holly's for a couple years now. Especially once her and Artie started getting serious."

Santana nodded; she'd been thinking about what she would need to do if Quinn and Mike wanted to become more serious. She knew that Quinn would never actually kick her out, especially since Quinn was the one to woo her to the city. Santana didn't feel like a burden—and she absolutely loved her studio—she just knew that sooner or later she'd have to leave. It was getting way far ahead of herself, but maybe, if things worked out, she'd be moving somewhere with Brittany. Santana gave herself a mental eyeroll—talk about a U-Haul moment—but at least they'd been smitten for some time now, even if Santana hadn't wanted to acknowledge it at first. She gave Brittany’s hand a squeeze of affection.

"Here she is." Brittany timidly bit her lip and waved her arm towards the sleek, modern house that was floating on water. Santana wasn't expecting the contemporary architecture. She was beginning to realize that this was just going to be a day full of unexpected things and that she really should’ve got on board with that a lot sooner.

"I thought it'd be a boat." Santana blinked at the elegant house and then at Brittany, who held an amused expression.

"Why, 'cause I'm quirky and colorful?"

"Well, not exactly." Santana scratched her head and shrugged her shoulders, she shot a glance back at the house, licked her lips and stepped toward Brittany, "I mean, I know you've got excellent taste, but you're someone who embraces the differences in life. So why wouldn't you take advantage of the opportunity to literally have a boat as a house?"

Brittany rolled her eyes and smiled, "Come on, let me show it to you."

"I'm excited.” Santana said as she followed Brittany through the door. She’d never get tired of that view. Brittany turned on the lights and Santana felt her eyes widen at the sleek industrial decor before her. The space felt warm and happy, which went against the feeling she usually had when greeted by houses with concrete floors and exposed wooden and steel beams. She shouldn't be surprised by the warmth, it was Brittany's place after all. Santana could probably spend a couple days just taking in the beauty of the house. “This place is gorgeous, Britt. It's hard to miss seeing the houseboats when looking at the bay, I always wondered who lived in them."

"All sorts," Brittany shrugged, and then pushed a button on the wall. The glass overhead door moved up and opened the space to the water. "Though, we don't interact much. I think we've all kinda chosen to live here 'cause of the solitude, you know?"

"It's beautiful." Santana gasped as she stepped to where the glass door had been; if she sat down she could put her feet in the cold water below. A part of her really wanted to feel the cool pain of the nearly freezing water on her feet. It’d been too long since she’d dipped her toes into the water anywhere other than a bath. She barely got to the beach in Los Angeles, traffic was a tedious thing to contend with when she was already worn out from work and needed to keep focusing on her music. Still, it’d been raining a cold, grey and windy rain all day, she didn’t want to risk getting a cold by sticking her feet in. "This must be perfect when it's hot."

"Oh, it's the best. My boat's ‘round the side," Brittany gestured with her hand. "I can just hop in anytime I like and be a dolphin."

"Or a gay shark."

"Exactly," Brittany grinned, and Santana would swear her eyes sparkled. "I kinda got it as, like, a beach house."

"Except..." Santana prompted at Brittany's hesitation.

"I've been spending more and more time here and less time at Holly's." Brittany shrugged and walked over to her kitchen.

"And it's become your home."

Brittany nodded and opened the stainless steel door of her refrigerator and pulled out a pitcher of water, "Would you like something?"

"Water is perfect." Santana smiled and let her eyes take in the design of the kitchen. The combination of glass tiles and zebra wood cabinets captivated Santana's eyes. She’d always appreciated fine architecture and interior design, and if Santana were being honest with herself the look of Brittany’s houseboat was damn close to something Santana would choose for herself. She sat down at the island/bar and joined Brittany, who had her glass of water outstretched. She took it and looked down at the surface she rested it on. Santana didn't know what type of stone the counters were, but it's almost obsidian color with warm golden flecks of brown complimented the room wonderfully. In her exhausted state, she almost rubbed her face against the smooth surface for the comfort it exuded. She didn’t, thank goodness she was sober. "This place is beautiful, Britt. I don't blame you wanting to spend more time here."

"I feel bad though," Brittany shrugged and played with the condensation on her glass. "She gave me this awesome opportunity for a fresh start and a place to stay and how do I repay her? By slowly and sneakily moving out, like a dog moving his treats from one hole to another."

"Britt, I doubt that Holly would ever get mad at you for something like that. Shit, she's, like, the ultimate free spirit."

"You're shivering." Brittany put her hand on Santana's arm feeling the chilled skin, "Of course you're cold, your clothes are all damp and here I am opening up the huge ol' window letting more cold air in."

"Britt, it's alright." Santana laughed and shook her head. She moved her arm so that Brittany's hand slid down and into her own. "I honestly hadn't noticed until you just pointed it out. The beauty of your house is super distracting and feels really… I feel welcome."

Brittany dropped her head, but Santana could still see the rosy hue that appeared on her cheeks. Brittany stood up and lightly tugged Santana's hand, "Come on, lets get you into something warmer."

They moved upstairs, Santana appreciating the mix of warm toned wood and dark metal that comprised the staircase. She didn't know what she was expecting when she reached the top of the stairs, but nothing could've prepared herself for the simplicity of the decor and the beauty of the view before her. It was one thing to be on the water, but the simple change in a flight of stairs had shifted perspectives just enough to allow her to see more. Santana was so impressed by the view before her she almost completely forgot about Brittany being there with her.

"Wow." Santana let out a breathless laugh and turned her head to Brittany who was looking at her with a gaze she hadn't seen before. Santana thought she'd experienced most of Brittany's looks; this was new and intense.

"No one has been up here before."

"Why? This is," Santana gestured with her hand towards the glass wall in front of them. "This is amazing."

"It is," Brittany nodded and pulled Santana closer to the bed that was covered in a light orange comforter, "but this is my sanctuary, Santana. Friends are allowed to hang out downstairs all they want, but no one is allowed upstairs. I'm not someone who has a lot of rules or boundaries when it comes to friends and family, but..."

"Everyone needs their space." Santana nodded and squeezed Brittany's hand. She swallowed and took in her surroundings: most of the furniture was a dark grey that would get offset by a bright colored accent. There were magenta pillows on the loveseat next to the window wall, the pulls on the drawers of her dresser were yellow bars and the lampshades on her bedside tables were cyan. There wasn't much furniture up there—there wasn't much of anything—but it all just seemed to make sense to Santana. The space was calming to her. Santana was relaxed. She felt like she was inside one of Brittany's hugs. She couldn't help the soft smile that appeared on her face. "Thank you for letting me in, Britt."

"Yeah, well, you're the exception."

"I'm starting to understand that." Santana looked around the room, at the view before her and then back to Brittany. It all felt so right to her, when she never knew she had been off. The day finally caught up to her, the relaxing comfort of the room lulling her body into a suddenly dazed and sleepy state. Santana mumbled, "My back is really sore."

"I wondered about that, you bending over the controls like that." Brittany let out a chuckle and shook her head. She moved over to the dresser and started sifting through the drawers. Santana was captivated, her exhausted state removing any filters she might've had on her brain and just leaving her standing there slackjawed as she stared at her gorgeous girlfriend in her gorgeous home.

"I love you." It left Santana's lips before her brain was even conscious of the words forming. Brittany's actions stilled, her entire body froze and Santana couldn't even register it before her mouth continued. "I do. I think I've been in love with you since the very first moment I met you. When you sat down at my table with your enigmatic ways and spoke to me like you've known me, the real me, for my entire life." Santana stepped forward and Brittany turned around to face Santana, with a smile and tears running down her face. "I don't know why I kept resisting it. I mean, everything I did just led to you, like some giant universal sign that only I seemed to be missing."

"Well, you are a bit stubborn." Brittany walked over and wrapped her arms around Santana's shoulders.

"I am. I'm stubborn and kind of a major bitch, but not to you. It's like you've got some invisibility cloak and my stubbornness and vicious ways just don't see you.”

"Santana, I love everything about you. I've seen you make a group of grown men run crying from a club, purely from you verbally slaying them."

"It's not fair." Santana pouted and played with the hem of Brittany's shirt.

"What?"

"You've had all this time to know me; I've got a lot of catching up to do." Santana tried to fight it, but couldn't help the yawn that followed the sentence. The soft and soothing sound of the water lapping against the boat, along with the delicious smell of Brittany and her tumultuous day made it very difficult for Santana to not be sleepy.

"No, I'm an open book, love." Brittany leaned forward and placed a soft kiss upon Santana's lips, "I needed the extra time to get past all your walls and defenses, to get to know the true you. The you that exists in your music and in your heart." Brittany ran her fingers through Santana's hair, then softly said, "Why don't you take a bath, it might help your back."

"Mmm, that sounds like a delicious idea. You going to join me?"

"I'll take a bath of my own, downstairs." Brittany chuckled at Santana's pout. "My bath isn't large enough for the both of us, especially when you need it to relax your back."

"Okay," Santana sighed. Brittany intertwined their fingers and led Santana to the bathroom.

\--+--

Santana stared into the mirror of Brittany's bedroom. She looked drained, and the soft yellow of Brittany's robe didn't help the pallor of her skin. It was a long day and the stress of the blackout didn't help her nerves, despite being absolutely confident that the performance was nothing short of amazing. Santana was still amazed at what they had managed to pull off that night, even if it took overcoming a huge personal hurdle. She yawned and rubbed her back as she watched a drop of water from her wet hair travel its way down her collarbone. Santana was exhausted and sore and she just wanted to go to sleep, but she didn't want to presume that they'd be sharing Brittany's bed. It was a large bed that looked really inviting and comfortable and the longer Brittany took downstairs, the harder it was for Santana to resist its pull.

"Your back's still sore after the bath?" Brittany walked stepped off the final stair, crossed the room and stopped just behind Santana. She met Santana's eyes in the mirror with a concerned expression.

"Yeah, it helped though." Santana yawned again and turned around, just as Brittany was leaning forward to throw her clothes into the clothes hamper next to the mirror. Their faces were inches apart, and Santana couldn't help but lick her lips. "Thanks."

"What's mine is yours," Brittany whispered before leaning forward and placing a gentle kiss upon Santana's lips. Brittany pulled away and said, "I know of another way to help. Take off the robe and lie face down on the bed."

"Wanky." Santana raised her eyebrow and didn't even fight the smile that came to her lips.

"I'm going to give you a massage," Brittany sighed and rolled her eyes. Santana knew better than to comment on the red flush that had taken over Brittany's face and cheeks. She shouldn't mess with her girlfriend like that, not when she was being offered a free massage.

Santana walked to the bed and untied her robe; she looked back over her shoulder at Brittany as she pulled it open. Brittany wasn't even looking; she had a hand over her eyes. Santana shook her head and let out a silent laugh at her gentlewoman. The simple act filled her entire body with a wave of warmth, the respect and affection implied was something Santana hadn't ever experienced before. She dropped the towel, moved the comforter back so she could lie on the sheets and crawled onto the bed. Santana had been right about how comfortable she thought the bed would be, it was like she were lying on firm clouds. She looked back at Brittany, who still wasn't looking.

"You know, you're allowed to look," Santana said softly. She appreciated the respect, but she knew that Brittany's gaze upon her body would feel even better. "I just ask that I get to do so as well."

Brittany immediately took her hand down and blinked her eyes open, finding Santana's eyes. She raised an eyebrow, smirked and pulled the robe she was wearing apart just enough for it to easily slide down her body. Santana's peripheral vision saw enough to know that Brittany was just as beautiful as she was inside, but her gaze was still locked onto Brittany's. It was as if they were having a staring contest, first one to break wins and loses. Santana was sure there was no downside to this situation; the woman she loved was naked and walking towards her with blue eyes that were slowly becoming darker and darker. Santana licked her lips and Brittany broke the eye contact to see the action and then they just kept on going. Eyes raking over Santana's beautiful dark skin and wonderful curves.

"You're beyond beautiful, Britt." Santana took in as much of Brittany's body as she could. Her small and pert breasts, her taut stomach, and the way her hips widened perfectly for her body. Santana was enthralled. If she hadn't been completely under Brittany's spell before, she would be bewitched by Brittany's hips now. She couldn't take her gaze off of them as they moved towards the bed, but managed to look away just in time as Brittany raised her knee to crawl up onto the bed.

"You know, you're allowed to look." Brittany had leaned forward, the tip of her breast alit the skin of Santana's back as she whispered into Santana's ear. Santana couldn't hold back the moan at the touch, nor her words repeated back to her. Santana tried to roll over, but Brittany stopped her. "Nope, I'm giving you a back massage. Stay there."

Brittany then crawled over Santana and placed her thighs on each side of Santana's hips. Santana gripped the sheets below her hands at the contact.

"Hey now, the massage won’t work if you're all tense, babe," Brittany teased lightly before lowering herself down to sit, her pelvis just below Santana's ass. Santana was going into sensory overload, it had been so long since she'd been intimate with anyone, and she was positive that none of her prior lovers had ever made her feel so comfortable. She couldn't help herself from her hips rolling backwards to meet Brittany.

"Ha," Brittany let out a startled noise at the unexpected contact from Santana.

"Sorry," Santana mumbled into the sheets.

"Nothing to be sorry about, my love, but please let me do this for you." Brittany placed her hands on Santana's shoulders. She refrained from moving until Santana gave a brief nod. Brittany kneaded the skin and muscles there interspersed with soothing strokes. Every once in awhile she would find a spot that would make Santana moan or roll her hips again.

"So good at this," Santana moaned out as Brittany was reaching Santana's mid-back.

"Anyone who's been a dancer knows how to do two things other than dance: stretch and massage." Brittany moved her fingers over to a certain spot and rubbed.

"Unh, strrrrrretching." Santana let out in a moan. If she had any wits about her other than how amazingly talented Brittany's hands appeared to be at making her a puddle of warmth, she'd probably be a bit embarrassed. In the moment though, she was too far gone. The exhaustion of the day combined with the waves of pleasure that Brittany was providing her had overpowered any semblance of thought. As Brittany slowly moved her hands lower to the small of Santana's back, Santana became aware of one certain thing: she wasn't going to last.

"Brrrit, I'ma—" Santana half moaned half mumbled into the sheets in an attempt to warn Brittany of what was to transpire. Brittany only took it as a sign to move her hands again to specific areas on Santana and continue her ministrations with more intent. It wasn't long before Santana fisted the sheets in her hands and rolled herself back into Brittany with a silent gasp.

Brittany lightened her touch on Santana's skin, languidly soothing down the muscles that had instantly become so tight and then released. She didn't stop until Santana rolled over and looked up at a smiling Brittany with a lazy smile of her own.

"My turn." Santana lifted herself up, grabbed Brittany's hips and attempted to move Brittany onto her back. Brittany didn't move, Santana's strength having not returned yet.

"You don't have to," Brittany smiled, leaned forward and stole a languid kiss.

"You need to relax too, my love." Santana pulled away only to swoop in and place a soft kiss on the underside of Brittany's chin. She continued to kiss her way down Brittany's neck, slowly leaning forward with each kiss, lick and light nip of teeth, until Brittany's breathing was labored and she was lying with her back to the bed.

"I'm better than—oh, yes—elaxed, San. I'm happy." Brittany sighed and combed her fingers through Santana's hair, not caring about her fingers getting tangled. Santana moved her lips lower, spending equal time appreciating both of Brittany's breasts with her mouth. Santana's hands traced patterns into Brittany's skin, playing her like her most coveted instrument. Santana became slower and slower with her ministrations and it only seemed to make Brittany whimper and shiver more.

Santana fought off the yawn that tried to break through her body. She was trying to pleasure her girlfriend, she shouldn't be yawning. But the lull of sleep, heavy from exhaustion, relaxation and pleasure finally brought Santana down into a deep sleep, right between Brittany's thighs.

\--+--

The first thing Santana's consciousness registered was the sound of water softly lapping against a surface. The steady, relaxing and comforting sound made her smile and burrow deeper into her pillow. Once Santana eventually realized that this was not a normal sound she woke up to, her brain began to rouse itself even more. It wasn't some sound machine mimicking the peaceful sound of waves, but actual waves coming from nearby and not from speakers. She then noticed how the morning sun, though warm and comforting, was not directly in her face demanding her to wake up. This morning light simply surrounded her, allowing her to keep her eyes closed not out of necessity, but out of bliss. She didn't feel disoriented, nor did she feel worried about her unknown location. It was not a feeling she was accustomed to. In the past she'd practically thrown herself out of the room she'd been sleeping in before even fully rousing when she found herself in different waking up territory.

Santana rolled her head deeper into the pillow and inhaled deeply, breathing in the fresh cool air of the water, the light scent of fabric softener and a scent she had come to define as Brittany. Then it all clicked in Santana's mind and she became fully awake. She sat up immediately, a bit too quick for her still sleep addled brain and she had to place a hand behind her for stability. Santana rubbed her face with her other hand, then attempted to run her fingers through her morning hair while looking at the space on the bed beside her. Brittany wasn't there, but Santana wasn't worried that she'd been abandoned. It was a nice feeling, a warm feeling that started in her chest and spread throughout her body. Santana couldn't fight the smile that spread across her face, she loved that she trusted Brittany. (She loved that she was in love with Brittany. It was no longer scary and Santana briefly wondered when the fear suddenly vanished.)

Her hand was stuck in her hair. She yanked her hand out and scowled briefly at her hand like it was its fault that her hair probably looked like a tangled lion’s mane. Santana hadn't planned on the night going the way it did when she took her shower or she would've taken precautionary measures for her hair. She shrugged her shoulders; let Brittany get used to the way she looked in the morning. Santana wanted to keep Brittany around and the sometimes crazy morning hair was a part of that. 

Santana yawned and stretched. The sheet that had been barely covering her chest fully fell and pooled in her lap. She looked at it with a lazy smile and then looked up and took in the room. She caught her breath. The way the warm orange of the sun hazily reflected off of all the neutral surfaces was beautiful. Santana briefly believed that she had been transported to some far off place where only she and this room existed. The only way it could be better is if Brittany were there with her. Santana pouted, perhaps she should go on a quest to find her girlfriend; not waking up to morning kisses would simply not do.

Spying a heather grey fabric ball on the floor, Santana crawled to the corner of the bed and reached for it. She had hoped that it was a tee shirt and was pleased to find her assumptions correct. Santana stretched again and tumbled out of bed with a thump. She giggled. Her body felt all sorts of relaxed and tingly; she hoped that her legs would be able to carry herself downstairs. Santana stood up and looked around while she tried to gain her balance. It was rare for her to get a full night's sleep, let alone sleep as deeply as she did. She felt beyond relaxed and it was taking her a bit to fully wake up, not that she minded. Santana looked around for her underwear, but couldn't find them. She shrugged, and looked at the hem of Brittany's tee shirt. It came to mid thigh, it's not like she'd be indecent or anything. Besides, it's not like Brittany hadn't seen her crotch before. Santana giggled, certainly not after last night.

...last night.

Santana's eyes widened, she slapped her palm against her face and groaned. Maybe she could sneak out and save herself the embarrassment. She'd never fallen asleep during sex before. Brittany hadn't even really touched her and...

She looked at the opened window wall and considered making a jump for it and swimming back to her car. Sure, the water was beyond freezing, but Santana was positive she could make it back to the dock before hypothermia or something set in. She yawned again and remembered how good it felt waking up. How amazing last night felt. Santana couldn't run away, she needed to stay and prove herself. Last night was a fluke, besides it wasn't like Brittany tried to kick her out or anything. Santana shook her head and inhaled a deep breath of air then descended the stairs.

Brittany had her hair up in a sloppy mess of a bun, Santana couldn't think of a more beautiful sight. She instantly knew that she wanted to spend many more mornings waking up to Brittany's messy hair. Santana no longer felt so bad about her own hair. Santana took in the rest of Brittany's outfit as she completed her descent of the stairs. Brittany wore a pale blue oversized dress shirt, it's sleeves rolled up past her elbow and the bottom of the shirt almost reached her knees. It was haphazardly buttoned and opened occasionally, exposing a milky thigh or an extra bit of clavicle as Brittany danced around her kitchen to music that was softly playing on the radio. 

The food smelled wonderful. The coffee smelled even better. Santana felt as if her chest were about to explode with all the warmth that currently filled it. Brittany was making them breakfast. She was dancing and singing and making them breakfast like it was the most natural thing in the world and Santana realized that she didn't want anything other than this ever again. It all felt so right, like the final puzzle piece sliding into place and completing the picture.

Vocals from the music surrounding them suddenly registered in Santana's brain and she scrunched her brow. She recognized it, but her sleep addled mind was still fuzzy. Santana rolled her eyes and almost laughed when it finally registered. She slowly wrapped her arms around Brittany from behind, trying not to scare the woman who was flipping an omelette on the stove.

"How old is this mix?" Santana's tone held amusement and affection. Brittany hadn't jumped in the slightest at Santana's sudden appearance and for some reason it made the feeling in Santana intensify. 

"This is the first one." Santana could hear the smile in Brittany's voice and squeezed her tighter, resting her chin on the slightly taller woman's shoulder. Brittany leaned her head and rested it against Santana's and hummed. "Just so you know that I'm not some total creeper, I'm actually listening to your radio station right now and not to one of my own recordings. Well, it is one of my recordings, but I didn't queue it up to play or anything."

"Wait, what?" Santana pulled her head back and loosened her hold on Brittany so she could turn around. Brittany did after moving the pan off the burner and turning the stove off.

"Well, I woke up early 'cause I needed to send Rory and 'Cedes last night's mix." Brittany's eyes widened and she straightened up, then blushed. She looked over at her laptop and coughed, "Which reminds me, we have an audience that I totally forgot about 'cause omelette."

"We, what?" Santana's voice didn't squeak, but it came close. She followed Brittany's gaze to see the screen of the laptop where a video chat window was opened and showing two screens, one with a beautiful dark skinned woman and the other with a dapper pale skinned man. They both grinned and waved. Santana hid her face into Brittany's chest and moaned, "Oh God."

"Oops." Brittany shrugged.

"I knew I should've put underwear on," Santana mumbled, sighed and then turned back at the screen.

"What?" Brittany whipped her head towards Santana, who ignored her.

"I've heard a lot about you two. My own personal marketing department it seems." Santana rested her elbows on the counter and leaned toward the laptop. She had sleep in her eyes and her hair was a mess, but she couldn't find it in her to care.

"Britt, girl, you okay?" Mercedes said and Santana turned around to catch a red faced Brittany staring at the bottom of Santana's tee shirt, or what was just below it now since the shirt had ridden up a bit with Santana's positioning at the counter. Brittany looked up and Santana smirked, winked and turned back to the laptop.

"She's fine. It's just hot in this kitchen that's all. So, how did you two like last night's set?" 

Rory and Mercedes immediately started to talk over one another before they calmed down and interwove their comments on how they wished they were there for it. Brittany slowly came up behind Santana and cuddled into her, making sure to have as much of their bodies connected as she could. She rested her head on the crook of Santana's neck as she joined in on the conversation. Santana smiled and placed a kiss on Brittany's temple and thought to herself, 'Yeah, I definitely want this forever.'


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. This is exactly as originally intended. All mistakes are mine.

The thing is, Santana never really had a clear vision of where she wanted to end up. She had the vague goals that a lot of people have. She knew she needed to make music; it was something she was born to do. Even if Santana hadn't been able to work in the places she did, she knew that she'd still be making her tracks when she got home. She'd still go home and play her drums, or pick at her guitar or piano, trying to find something she hadn't heard before: something that moved her. Santana knew that she had been lucky, no matter how the reality of the business tried to tarnish the shine of the dream; at least she got to work in something related to her passion. Not everyone can get by on vague dreams of fortune and making a difference.

Standing on the stage in front of a packed Ibiza crowd, closing down the season with her best friends by her side as the sun set on the ocean behind her, she had the realization that it never mattered that she hadn’t had a clear goal in mind. What mattered is that she kept working at it, she never stopped making her music and it was her music that brought her to where she was and the people she loved. It was a tedious thing, consistently putting her soul out there with barely any feedback for so many years.

It was all worth it. Honestly, even if things hadn't have taken off like they did, and Santana was still doing nothing other than being a radio host with Artie and mixing at Nemo's, she would've been perfectly content. Maybe that was the point of it all; her finding contentment in the simplest things in her life opened her up in ways she'd never imagined.

And people responded.

She thinks it's the way she makes her music. DJ Snixxy is no longer a solo act. In fact, she only uses it as her stage and radio name these days. For so long it had been a passion and love of music that drove her to create, but now she's found that it's the love and passion she's surrounded by in her life that is creating music. It's a collaborative effort, with long nights of food, drink, laughter and love. Santana had seen those films of people having all-night jam sessions and she hadn't understood how they could get anything productive done. She gets it now. 

\---------

After the way her first concert in Seattle finished, Santana had been worried. Quinn and Brittany insisted that there was absolutely nothing to worry about, but it was hard for her to believe. The power went out in the middle of her finale. It was supposed to be one of the most impressive points of her show -- the little light show perfectly entwined with her music -- people were supposed to talk about it for ages. As much as Santana liked to try and convince herself of her ambivalence towards people showing up and being wowed by her show, she wanted to impress even more. She wanted to be all anyone talked about for days. The fact that her meticulously planned performance came to an abrupt end, threw things into a freefall she hadn't been prepared for. Santana wanted to believe Quinn and Brittany -- and she knew that what Brittany and Artie helped her to pull off was pretty incredible -- but she wouldn't be able to function until she had proof.

She should've known better, really. Quinn had never been one to pull punches and Brittany… well. 

When Santana first got into the station after the concert, it was a bit of a shock. At first she didn't know why Artie and Holly were grinning at her like that. It was kind of creepy, the intensity of their glee aimed at her, but then she got to her desk and saw that it was covered in papers. There were articles upon articles from all the local, and some non-local, weekly publications talking about DJ Snixxy's performance at Nemo's. There were also printed out articles from various music blogs, most using an embarrassing amount of exclamation points, strewn throughout. Santana knew the face she was making at the time couldn't have been attractive in the slightest, but she was too shocked to pick her jaw up. She stood there for who knows how long, slack-jawed and wide-eyed, until she felt soft fingers beneath her chin lifting it up and moving her head. Santana's eyes followed and met sparkling blue eyes and had let out a soft, 'Oh.' which brought Brittany to waggle her eyebrows.

Apparently people had loved the show before, and especially after, the power cut out. 

She had ten new gigs throughout the Pacific Northwest lined up before her and Artie's show was over, promoters everywhere were desperate to grab onto the next big thing all the kids were talking about. Santana was only three phone calls into it when she felt overwhelmed and called Quinn, begging for her to ditch her classes and help manage the sudden influx of attention.

\----

It took some time for Santana get used to her new jet-setting life. She gained more and more traction as she performed in various venues. The fact that she finally had a home base, not just a place to rest her head, but a place and people she called home, helped her to keep her sanity. It wasn't long, though, before she longed for a different way of doing things. Skype dates with Brittany just weren't the same. Co-DJing the FiddySnixx show from satellite locations made the banter difficult and the battling less fun. 

She was sitting outside a cafe in Paris, surrounded by the reflecting lights on the rain dampened streets in the periwinkle of dawn when she realized why she recognized that off feeling in her gut that she'd been having for a while. It was that same unrest that made her look for a job out in California to get away from New York. It was the same feeling that got her out of Los Angeles and to the place she calls home. There she was, having everything she thought she could've ever wanted, but unable to enjoy it like she should.

Instead of sleeping on her long flight back to Seattle, she spent it thinking about her life and the possibilities in front of her. Santana knew that she could force herself to continue on the path she was currently on, taking it for the gift it was supposed to be, but she didn't believe in that having any sort of longevity. Eventually her music would suffer for her apparent apathy towards the life she was living. She also knew that she could just give this new life up and just go on in Seattle, with her friends, her love, her regular gigs at Nemo's and continue getting paid to goof off with Artie. It wouldn’t be a horrible option and she'd certainly be more content than she currently was, but that wouldn't replace the experience of travelling the world and meeting new people, having new experiences and using them to further her music. Santana started making a list of possibilities, a list of things she'd need if she had complete control.

The following morning, after sleeping off the jet lag and showing Brittany just how much she was missed, she called Quinn over to the boathouse that was now her shared home with Brittany. She played them the rough versions of a couple songs she fooled around with on the flight while trying to make her lists, and then she brought out her notepad and handed it over for their help.

It took a while to come with a solid game plan, one that would accommodate as much from the lists as possible. It took ages in comparison to how long it took everyone else to come aboard.

It turned out to be the best decision she could've ever made.

\----

The crowd was cheering their lungs out. If it wasn’t for the headphones Santana was holding up to her ear, she wouldn’t have been able to hear her music or the voices of her friends as they sang their final notes. As Santana looked out at the crowd cheering them on, she couldn’t help but think that the movement of the bodies as they danced to their music resembled the ripples of the water outside of her and Brittany’s boathouse. It wasn’t unlike the ocean behind them, forgotten for the performance on the stage, but only when the waters were calm and reassuring. There was a beautiful flow to the crowd before her and it was there in that moment that she finally realized that what she had wanted all those years ago had finally come to fruition.

The funniest thing about it all was how little it actually mattered now. Santana looked over at Brittany, Artie and Blaine bowing on the stage and thanking the crowd with her, the dreams she had never looked like this. She never thought the feeling of warmth and happiness that was filling her completely in this moment was even possible. Except these days, it’s pretty much a constant feeling for her and it’ll remain that way for many year to come.


End file.
